War of the Four Lands: The Northern Shards
by TennisWriter456
Summary: They both want the Triforce of Courage in this era of darkness. Queen Zelda, for the power that it will grant her. Link, to stop her. He and his group of mercenaries will do anything to find it before she does. Thugs, snowy mountains, lost civilizations in hidden forests, shadow people, a wolf...all await them as they search for the northern shards of the Triforce of Courage.
1. Prologue

**Hi everybody! Welcome to my newest project: War of the Four Lands. It is a four-volume series, and what you just clicked on is the very first part! Yay! You rock for reading this! You sexy beast you!**

**Let me give you an overview that's better than the little summaries will allow. A full summary, as promised:**

**Queen Zelda: a cruel, black-hearted leader in search of the Triforce. The Fierce Deities: a skilled, rebellious group of mercenaries seeking to stop her, led by their fearless leader, Link. And the legacy of a war, waged thirty-two years ago, that still remains in an era of fear, desolation, and darkness: the War of the Four Lands. **

**Hyrule in this era is split into four sections, deemed the Four Lands. The Hylian Cities in the north, where the Hylian race has made its civilization; the Zora Isles to the south, where both the Sea Zoras and the River Zoras live; the Goron Mountains to the west, where the Gorons have built their homes; and finally, the Gerudo Deserts to the east, where the Gerudo people live. **

**They all lived separately, with intercultural, economic relationships, trade routes, and generally strong alliances. But thirty-two years ago, Queen Arielda, who ruled the Hylian Cities, decided to wage war and conquer the other three lands (cue Katara narrative). She essentially vanquished them all. (Details will come more from the story itself.) Now her granddaughter, Queen Zelda, rules not only the Hylian Cities, but all of Hyrule.**

**The Triforce of Courage has been split into eight shards, with two in each land. The story follows Link and his friends as they go through each land, trying to track down the shards of the Triforce before Zelda and her allies manage to get their hands on them. **

**It's obviously a lot more complicated than that, but you have to read to put together the whole story ;)**

**Each book will take place in a different land. This one, as you can guess from the title, takes place in the Hylian Cities. **

**You'll notice I drew a lot of inspiration from Game of Thrones, The Hunger Games, and Avatar: The Last Airbender. As for the Legend of Zelda timeline, I wouldn't say this is an alternate universe...more of some crazy future Hyrule in which all characters from a lot of different eras come together. The landscape is pretty huge, and I'm taking on a big endeavor, especially when it comes to character development...This is probably the biggest writing project I've ever done, and I'm REALLY excited to show it to you all. **

**I would really appreciate your feedback! I put A LOT of time into it and your opinions mean so much to me. After all, it's for you! **

**This book is 54 chapters, just so you know (excluding the prologue). This one is probably going to be the longest of the four. **

**I'll shut up now so you can read.**

* * *

Prologue

Start

A young boy and a young girl sat across from one another, their bodies hidden in the single overgrown section of the garden. It was the section that, for some odd reason or another, the gardeners always forgot. They tended to every other part of the garden with such meticulous care, eradicating every weed and trimming every bush until there was only perfection. But this section had not been tended to for what seemed like centuries—perhaps the gardeners had simply looked at it, decided that there was no hope left, and let nature run its course. The weeds had grown and flourished, sprouting up from the ground and weaving their fingers through the soil to create a web of green and brown. The grass was so tall that even if someone had passed directly by them, the two would still be hidden perfectly in the center. But they recognized that if the wind blew, making the thin strands of grass tilt like falling trees, they might be spotted. Of course, they had always agreed that taking the risk was definitely worth their secret meetings. Their secret meetings there, in the soil, in the center of what was to them a secret forest of clandestine friendship.

They sat unusually close to one another, he crossing his legs and she with her knees bent to one side. She was still and had her eyes shut, was humming a song through her smiling, closed lips. He was swaying from side to side (his eyes also shut) to the soft, haunting melody that she hummed for him. It was a tune that he recognized, and one that she probably could have hummed even in her deepest slumber. But she hummed it anyway, and he listened anyway. It was like a ritual between them, in which they began their meeting with a silent conversation consisting only of the softest music and the softest reaction. A ritual to set their relationship apart from any other, to identify themselves as having a special connection.

They were both fourteen years old. At an age where they were still innocent, but had stopped understanding what innocence truly meant. Oddly enough, they had the same birthday, as well; tomorrow was the day that both of them turned fifteen. So today was, in fact, a special meeting. Their pre-birthday meeting.

The boy was the kind that seemed brave, simply from the sight of him. His striking blue eyes always sparkled with an intensity that one might see in the eyes of a trained soldier, and he moved more deliberately than even a king. There was always the hint of a gentle, crooked smile on his lips, though it seemed as if even he wasn't aware of it. It was simply always there, reminding the world of his elated spirit, content comportment, adventurous disposition. That smile was what made those around him feel at ease, made everyone take an immediate liking to him. He was a quiet, charismatic, kind, troublesome and mischievous young boy, with blonde hair that one could see was often tamed and brushed and untangled, kept from its natural state of arbitrary waves. And it was evident, from the look on the boy's face when he was in this secret jungle, that he loved listening to the young girl hum—in fact, he might have even loved the young girl herself.

The girl was the most beautiful girl that anyone had ever seen, with skin so smooth that it shined in the sun and silky hair that, even at that age, reached her lower back when let out of its pins and ribbons. The only color ribbons she ever wore, for reasons unknown, was bright red. Her hair was dark compared to the boy's; it was a soft brown color and would, people said, grow lighter and lighter as she grew older, and it was embellished with a thin silver tiara. But her eyes were the same color as his, a piercing blue that rivaled the shade of the sky. One look at her, and everyone was bound to fall in love. To adore. And one could see from the gaze in her eyes that she was intelligent, that she was ambitious, that she was curious, that she was drinking in every detail of her surroundings even as she spoke to or concentrated on one person. She was aware of every movement, every sound, every smell, every sensation around her. She paid attention, she watched, but more importantly, she felt. Even though her face was stoic and gentle and hardly betrayed emotion, when looked at more carefully, her eyes revealed the tornado of emotions swirling inside of her heart at every moment. And it was evident at that moment, her knees brushing his legs, that she loved more than anything to hum to the young boy—in fact, she might have even loved the young boy himself.

The girl opened her eyes once she had finished humming. The boy's smile had grown wider, his erect posture slouched and his muscles tensed, but he kept his eyes closed. She watched him sit like that for a few moments, the heat rising in her cheeks and tingles erupting on her fingertips. Her heart was beating, faster and faster with each moment, and for a split second she hoped that he wouldn't open his eyes. So that she could look at him like that forever, in that perfect moment. The wind was whistling now, as if to replace her humming, and the pallor of his skin seemed to brighten from it. Then she saw his hands, sitting so nicely on each of his knees, and they looked perfect. With his nice, trimmed nails (though nothing compared to hers, painted a light shade of pink), his scratched knuckles, the calluses in between his fingers. With a smile to match his, she reached forward and placed her hands atop his, her movements graceful and as natural as the flowing of water into the sea. Suddenly, it just seemed like the only possible thing she could have done at that particular second. The only thing the world would have accepted her doing.

At this touch, warm and comforting, the boy opened his eyes, too. He liked that the first thing he saw was the girl's face—his friend's face—beaming in front of him. Her cheeks were rosy, an excited smile parted her red lips, and when she blinked her eyes it was like a silent invitation. The kind of invitation that made a fourteen year-old boy's heart stop, made a fourteen year-old boy wonder what good thing he had done to deserve such a wonderful thing. Thin strands of her hair had fallen free from her ribbons (so, so red) and were floating across her face, and like an instinct, he lifted his left hand from beneath hers and tucked the strands of hair behind her ear. Her smile grew wider when he did, and he liked that.

"You never told me where you learned that melody," the boy said.

"My grandmother used to sing it to me before bed," the girl replied, "like a lullaby."

"Well it's really beautiful. Have I ever told you that? It's really nice."

"I'm glad you like it." The girl's thumbs began stroking his hands, perhaps unconsciously and perhaps very deliberately. Neither of them was really sure.

"Hey, Zel. How long do you think we'll be able to come here before someone catches us?" the boy suddenly asked. She smiled more widely and gripped his hands, leaned forward.

"Forever, I hope," she said. The boy chuckled, with a tinge of nervousness, and looked away. As if the brightness of her eyes and the sincerity of her smile had all of a sudden become too much to bear.

"Forever is a really long time," he mused.

"It's not that long," she shook her head. "Not for friends, at least."

"Friends..." He looked up again and saw that her face, this beautiful, magical, exciting girl's young face, was right in front of his. The full weight of her arms rested on his legs, she was on her knees, and for the very first time he really smelled her. She smelled like books. Really old books, that crack when you open them and have a lot of history within them.

"Do you remember what tomorrow is, Link?" she asked.

"Of course I do! It's our birthday. I already bought you a present," he said with his crooked smile. The girl gave his legs a squeeze and nodded her head.

"Good, because I bought you a present, too. It's really nice. Really, really nice."

"Well I'm sure anything you get me is bound to be 'really, really nice,'" he teased. As he chuckled, she furrowed her brow playfully.

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"Nothing," he laughed, "Princess."

"Don't call me that," she pouted. "I hate it when you call me that."

"Why?"

"Because when I'm here, in our little secret jungle with you, I don't feel like a princess anymore." Her eyes became softer, and then his eyes became softer, and without warning he found his gaze drawn to her lips. He was watching them so intently that he could have sworn he saw the words she was saying just sitting there. "And I think I like it. That here, with you, I'm not a princess. I'm just me."

"That's so cliché, Zel," he mumbled.

Her hands were suddenly like fire on top of his, and her surrounding aroma of books was enough to make his entire mind fog up. He couldn't think, he could hardly hear, and all he could really see was her mouth, her lips right in front of him. So close he could feel her breath on the very tip of his nose.

"What do you suppose is going to happen tomorrow, Link?" she asked. For the thought had been worrying her for some time.

"What do you mean?"

"Fifteen is a big deal. Do you think anything is going to change?"

Her voice was at a whisper now, and he could no longer control his uneven breathing and the erratic beating of his heart.

"Maybe," he said, "but I don't think a lot is going to change."

"Well I think you're wrong. I think everything is going to change."

"Why do you think that?"

"I..." Her voice trailed off, and she found it difficult to find it again. And she realized that for the past few minutes, she had been staring only at his lips. "I just feel it, I suppose."

She squeezed his hands. Like it was the most natural thing in the world.

"You and me, we're going to take on the world together," she whispered.

"Together?" he whispered back.

"Of course. Together, always. I promise." She paused. "Do you promise?"

"I promise. Together, always."

And then, the fourteen year-old boy leaned forward slightly. Just a little bit, just enough, until he was kissing her. The eyes of that exquisite fourteen year-old girl widened, surprised at this development (which of course she had been expecting), in absolute wonder at the feelings it stirred within her. But his eyes were closed, his entire body completely still. The girl tried to close her eyes, too, but she couldn't do it. She couldn't tear her eyes away from his face, from the perfection of it all. And she was frightened that if she closed her eyes, even for a moment, everything would just disappear.

Is this what heaven feels like?

That kiss, for the fourteen year-old boy, was the most amazing thing he had ever experienced. It was like finally grasping something made for him, something that had been waiting for him to claim it. Their lips fit together like puzzle pieces, and hers tasted like flowers might taste if he were to put a fuzzy little rose petal on his tongue. They were smooth, soft, inviting. Kissing her was like waking something up deep inside him, something that had been hiding, something amazing that would change his entire world. He had to close his eyes, to truly relish the moment.

Is this what heaven feels like?

They were young. Only fourteen years old—about to turn fifteen. The kiss was chaste, innocent, meaningful, undeniably gorgeous to anyone who might have seen it. Each of them felt something unbelievable in that moment, something that made their hearts swell and pump and erase any thought in their minds. They believed it to be something natural, something that was meant to happen. Had been destined to happen, in fact, since the day they first met.

But with that kiss, they both lost their innocence.

They just didn't realize it yet.

And they wouldn't realize for another seven years.

She much sooner than he.


	2. Boy without Memory

**Here's the first official chapter! Woop! Just a few things I forgot to mention in the prologue:**

**As a warning, this story does contain some language and sexual content. If you're uncomfortable with that but you still want to read the story, PM me!**

**Next, the story itself is divided into four parts. I'll label them as such :)**

**ALSO, a note about the rate of updates. Since the story is completely finished, I'll be updating every 1-3 days. So there won't be too much waiting time in between chapters. **

**Read on, beautiful people! Read on!**

* * *

_PART ONE_

_THE UNDERGROUND_

* * *

Chapter One

Boy without Memory

He had fallen asleep on that pile of hay again—the twenty-two year-old stable boy with no memory of the first fifteen years of his life.

He often found himself asleep on that pile of hay. Or, rather, other people often found him asleep on that pile of hay. He wasn't generally a tired person, or a fatigued person, or a lazy person. In fact, he was the furthest thing from every single one of those character traits. He was energetic, alert, often extremely active. It was just that sometimes, after a long day at the stables working with the riled horses and herding the indignant goats, the hay looked so comfortable. He would tell himself only a minute, just to rest his aching butt (from all the riding, obviously), and then a few hours later he was suddenly wondering how long he had been asleep.

"I swear ta Din almighty...Again, boy?"

That day, he was awakened by a gruff, booming voice that made even the horses shuffle their hooves in their stables. But he heard the voice as if it were in his dreams, and instead of sitting up, he turned onto his side and hugged the strands of hay like a pillow. A bristly, rough pillow that would undoubtedly leave marks on his sun-bronzed skin and nestle in his tangled, sandy locks. A pain to wash out later. A soft snore drifted from his open mouth while a drizzle of saliva slid down his cheek. He was as asleep as one could be on a pile of hay.

"Git up, ya useless sack o' horse shit!"

The man standing over the boy, his long head as red as a tomato and his yellow teeth clenched together, kicked the pile of hay. Then, feeling as if he were suddenly falling into oblivion, the boy jerked up. He flailed his arms for a moment, looked around with a dazed, surprised sparkle in his sapphire eyes. When his gaze fell upon the man's flushed face, he relaxed a bit and stretched out his arms. He was, in fact, very comfortable, though he wasn't sure he enjoyed the look on his employer's face.

"Morning, Fado."

"Don'tcha 'mornin' me, boy. Ya know damn well it ain't mornin." As if he hadn't heard him, the boy with no memory of the first fifteen years of his life put his hands behind his head and leaned back against the pile. "How many times are ya gonna do this, Link?"

"Do what?"

"Fall asleep on the job! Yer s'posed ta be brushin' up them horses!"

"I didn't fall asleep," he yawned. "I was just resting."

"I should fire ya right here."

Link didn't respond. He merely gave his crooked smile, the one that for Fado meant, "You should fire me, but you won't." And Fado understood it perfectly. He shook his head, albeit somewhat reluctantly, and put his hands on his hips. His tall body cast a shadow on the spot where Link lay, the frown on his mouth was overwhelmingly grumpy, but Link didn't truly mind it much.

"I wish ya weren't so damn good with them horses," Fado continued. "Otherwise, I'd've fired ya within the first week."

Without a word, Link jumped to his feet and leaned back, felt a relieving sting run through his spine. While Fado watched him, he pulled his hair out from the small ponytail holding it together in the back of his head, and it fell in all-too-thick tendrils to his broad shoulders. Uneven, messy, but nice and luxurious in its own humble way. Then, with Fado still watching, he tied as much of it back as he could. Which wasn't a lot. His was not the type of hair that appreciated being tamed. Most of it jumped free and fell in tangled waves around his eyes, but he had grown accustomed.

"Ya know what, I should lower yer pay this week, ya sunovabitch," he grumbled.

Link chuckled softly to himself and wandered around the stables, hands in his pockets, knowing that Fado would never do that. Fado was a grouch, a temperamental bastard who liked to hear his own voice, but he was fair. And though he tried to hide it with the desperation of hiding a dark secret, Fado had a soft spot for Link. After all, he had been working in his stables for seven years.

"Listen, boy, just git them goats in from the pastures, feed them horses, and haul yer ass outta my stables. I'll see ya bright an' early tomorrow."

"Don't forget my paycheck tomorrow, Fado."

"Yeah, yeah, git outta my sight."

Still mumbling incomprehensibly to himself, as he always did after long days dealing with Link, Fado marched down the stables. The horses whinnied when he walked past, bobbing their heads, as if giving him a ceremonious exit. Link smiled after him silently. Once he had slammed the large doors behind him and Link was alone in the stables with the horses, he walked to the stable at the very end of the barn. As he walked, he let his hand—his left hand, the one on which he always wore a leather black glove—brush the muzzles of the horses he passed. Each one gratefully pressed its nose to his palm, bobbed its head lightly until he gave them an affectionate scratch. They whinnied for him, too, but not in the way that they whinnied for Fado. The way they whinnied for Link was more of a friendly whinny, more of a loving whinny.

Finally, Link was at the very last stable. He had a couple sugar cubes hidden in his pocket, which at that moment he took out and fiddled with in his palm. There, poking her head out of her stable, was the most beautiful horse in all of Hyrule—at least, that was how Link saw her. A rusty metal plaque hung beside the door of the stable, and it read, "Epona." A name he had given her himself.

"Hey, girl," he whispered. "Hey, Epona."

He looked into her huge brown eyes for a few moments, reminding her of who he was. Why he was there, how he felt about her. Once she reared her head, he brought his hand up to her cheek and began stroking, gently, until she leaned forward. Then their foreheads were touching and he could see every detail of her majestic face, could feel the power coursing through her veins and into his. She was a graceful creature, with copper hair and a mane and tail whiter than anything he'd ever seen. And she loved him, he knew. He loved her back, of course.

"You're my pretty girl," he gushed. He held the sugar cubes to her mouth, flat-handed, and she sucked them up within a single moment. She chewed, the sound reverberating through his ears as he held her closer. "You ready to finish up for the day, Epona?"

She brayed, as if she had truly understood what he'd said.

Rope in hand, Link opened the stable and led Epona out. It was their ritual at the end of every day—become like one single entity, finish the work.

And, of course, after all the goats were herded, Epona would help Link train.

He kept his sword hidden in the same pile of hay upon which he often fell asleep. It was a sword that he couldn't remember receiving, but had always had in his possession. He guessed that he had gotten it (one way or another) within his first fifteen years of life: the era of which he remembered nothing. The blade, which had lately begun to dull from years of use, had markings etched into it that Link couldn't understand, but thought were beautiful anyway. Perhaps Ancient Hylian, perhaps something completely different, perhaps just meaningless doodles. They ran from the tip all the way down to the silver hilt. He had wrapped the hilt in brown cloth when he was sixteen, to make it somehow seem like the sword truly was his. Because ultimately, he didn't know whose it was. He had just woken up one day at fifteen years old, on the streets, with nothing but a name and a sword.

At the end of every day, when Fado had gone home and all the work was done, Link retrieved that mysterious sword, headed out into the pastures, and trained until he was nearly drowning in his own sweat. First he would jump with Epona, swinging his sword while she leaped over rocks and fences. Jump, jump, jump, until he was confident that she had worked hard enough. Then he would dismount, let her relax in the pastures for a while, and battle imaginary enemies that surrounded him. Hylians, Sheikah, Gerudos, Zoras, Gorons—enemies of all races rushed at him, and he cut down all of them. His imagination ran wild at the end of the day. And all the while, he honed his skills with his sword.

Link was determined to become the best swordsman in Hyrule.

And, more importantly, the training was absolutely necessary.

How could Link do his assignments at night without such training?

For at the end of every day, after training and returning Epona (reluctantly) to her stable, the sun set and darkness fell.

With that darkness, Link would discard his identity as a stable boy and cloak himself in his identity as the most skilled mercenary in all of Castilia.

* * *

Hands in his pockets, sword slung over his back, and a piece of licorice (stolen from Fado's stash) hanging idly from his lips, Link walked toward the city of Castilia. And even though he had no memory of the first fifteen years of his life, he could have walked this same path with his eyes closed; it began unpaved, overgrown with green wilderness leading away from the stables about a mile outside of the city border. But as the path grew closer and closer to the grand, metal gates of the city, dirt faded to cobblestone and the sounds of Hyrule's capital city filled the air. The gates themselves seemed a force to be reckoned with, adorned with a rusty history and meticulous, ornate designs. The first time Link had seen them, he had been breathless. Now, he hardly spared them a passing glance. He simply shivered as he walked into the shadows that they cast across nearly every inch of Hyrule.

Guards stood, alert and covered from head to toe with armor. Zelda's Iron Warriors, they had been christened by the disillusioned citizens of the queen's kingdom. There were rumors that they weren't even human, but mechanical creatures, built to maintain justice and order (as they were defined by the queen, of course). But Link knew from experience that there were real people beneath the helmets, the chest plates, the hidden chainmail. There were real people holding those spears in their hands. Real people carrying out heinous orders and terrorizing people all across Hyrule. As he approached, Link sucked on the licorice and looked up into the eyes of the guard standing in the center of the gate. At least, he looked to where he assumed the eyes were. For there was nothing but a slit in the helmet, and darkness. It was almost enough to make him smile every time.

"Papers," said the Iron Warrior. He could tell from the gargled voice that this one was a woman. With his unwavering gaze, Link pulled a few wrinkled parchments from his pocket and handed them over to her. He wondered how she looked underneath all that armor. Beautiful, ugly, skinny, fat. In between.

She lifted the papers up to the slit in her helmet. At the end of the day, there were countless people running in and out of the city. In fact, at that moment, there was a long line of people behind him waiting for their moment to enter the city. And a few meters to his left was a line of people leaving the city. Link glanced around—two Iron Warriors stationed on the ground on each side, two more in the towers at the top of the gates, and another one stationed to check the papers of those exiting Castilia. Ten total. Impossible to defeat single-handedly, he decided whimsically.

"Link?" she said.

He nodded and sucked on his licorice.

"Where do you work?" she asked. He wondered why she cared and knew that the information was already written on his identification papers, but figured it wasn't worth his time (or any broken bones) to be smart with her.

"The ranch a mile out. Just a normal stable boy," he shrugged.

"Every day?"

He nodded.

"Why do you have a sword with you if you're just a normal stable boy, eh?"

"The grass gets pretty long out there in the wilderness," he replied with a grin. He liked coming up with a different answer every day—because he knew that every day they would ask him about the sword. Today he used the grass as an excuse. Whatever that meant.

"The grass?"

"The sword is registered in my papers," he pointed out. He was no longer in the mood to play games.

She glanced back down at the parchments. Then she paused, as if she were about to say something else. But apparently, she thought better of it. Link knew there was nothing in his papers that would warrant an arrest, but...

Anything could happen with Iron Warriors.

With a single, dismissive nod of her large head, she handed him his papers and allowed him to pass through. He crumpled the parchments into his pockets and walked by. He didn't spare the Iron Warrior another passing glance, and he stopped wondering what she looked like. He just sucked on his licorice and began his trek through the winding streets of Castilia.

His boots echoed off the ground and just walking along it made him feel a more civilized person. These streets were built with human hands, by women and men hundreds of years ago upon whose sweat he now tread. He walked on the curb, passing beneath the awnings of shops and houses, a single person in a sea of others. A sea of Hylians, of Gerudos, of Gorons, of Zoras. There was even the occasional in this crowd, this ocean. Link was just another Hylian. In the central streets, carriages in which the wealthy sat and horses upon which they rode passed by one another, leaving their marks in the gutters. Screaming at one another, claiming the streets as their own territory. Since it was the end of the day and the sun was beginning to set, the streets were flooding. Some people going home from their jobs, some people heading out to the capital city's plethora of pubs and taverns. Link didn't like how crowded it was but, of course, he had grown accustomed. And even better, he had learned all the shortcuts.

After about five minutes of walking, bumping shoulders with people and being nearly thrown to the ground by a Goron or two, he made a sharp left turn into a narrow alleyway. There, as ironic as it was, he could breathe much more easily. He was able to enjoy the taste of the licorice just a little bit more. There were no lanterns to light alleyways like this, so he was essentially walking in darkness, but he didn't mind. He knew the paths by now, after seven years of walking back and forth along them. For Link had a very specific destination in mind. He was heading to the largest, loudest, most famous inn of Hyrule—placed in the central plaza of Castilia. He was headed toward Telma's Inn. He turned, he twisted, he squeezed through alley after alley after alley.

He was already tasting the warm milk and honey on his tongue when suddenly, someone jumped from the shadows of the alley. Of course, he had known that the person was there as soon as he'd turned the corner. He stopped in his tracks, but did not draw his sword. He simply stared at this ambiguous, cloaked figure, offering itself before him. Link could make out only the shape of the silhouette. Slender—unbelievably slender. Narrow hips, shoulders broad in comparison. From the shape of this person's body, Link would have assumed at first that he was a man. But then the person stepped closer, and Link saw the very clear outline of the person's chest. And he was certain that she was a woman. But the cloak still hid her face. The rest of the alley was completely deserted.

"Link," she said. "Leader of the Fierce Deities." Her voice was smooth and piercing, like the bells that rang out from the Temple of Time at the north end of the city. Link spat the remaining stub of licorice to the ground.

"How can I be of service, milady?"

He was no longer surprised about people he had never seen before knowing his name. That tended to happen, since he and his team were the most well-known mercenaries in Castilia. Perhaps in all of Hyrule. In fact, their reputation depended upon that happening. If nobody knew who they were, then there was no point. Though, he had never been worried.

Words spread like wildfire in the underground world of Hyrule.

"I need your help," she said. "I have an important assignment for you." She lifted her thin arm and, held in her delicate, breakable little fingers, was an envelope. The wax seal closing it was huge, dramatic, unfamiliar to Link.

"Let me see your face first." He raised his eyebrows, as a silent refusal of the letter. With a small, obscure sigh, the woman lowered the hood of her cloak.

For a moment, Link was taken aback. Her face was breathtakingly beautiful. Her bones were outlined as if the pale, nearly white skin of her cheeks had been painted on, her cheekbones high and her nose light and pointed, her lips thin and her eyes sunken. But there was something haunting, something chilling about her features. As gaunt, as slender, as cold as her face was, it was like a dream. Her eyes were deep brown, so dark that her pupils were completely hidden. The most startling part to Link, though, was her hair. It was yellow. Not blonde. Yellow. But it was not shiny. It was smooth and it looked soft, but it did not shimmer. It was all drawn back from her face and pulled into a top-knot that sat like a fixture on her head. Long, pointed ears jutted out the sides of her head. She was a Hylian, he could tell. But a strange one.

"There," she replied. When she spoke, the movement of her lips didn't match the words that escaped them. He paused for a few moments, just let the silence hang between them. Link had had many encounters like this. But something about this woman was more intriguing than anything else—there was adventure in the envelope she held in her hands. That much, he knew. And that was enough for him.

"All right. As long as you can pay," he shrugged, whisking the envelope from her fingers with his gloved hand. She looked startled. "And as long as you keep your mouth shut."

"My mouth shut?"

"We can always shut it for you."

"But...th-that's it?" she stuttered. "You'll trust me just like that?"

"Tomorrow, go to Ikana Road at noon exactly. There, you'll find a man in glasses. Give him five thousand rupees. If you do that, forty-eight hours from now, the assignment will be done. I'll collect the rest of the money after it's over. And, of course, stay quiet."

"I-Ikana Road?! But that's where all the crime syndicates are, the black market, the gangs—"

"Uh-huh."

Before she could even respond, Link walked past her, continued on his path to the inn. He waved the envelope as he walked, but did not look back.

"Oh, and by the way, I don't trust you at all," he laughed. "I'm just very intrigued."

But the woman had already disappeared.


	3. Woman Who Is Man

**Hello again, here's chapter two! **

**Some chapters will be like 3,500 words, some will be 1,500. **

**This one just happens to be real short. **

**Enjoy :)**

* * *

Chapter Two

Woman Who Is Man

The woman put the hood back up and disappeared into the shadows once more. She listened to the boy with no memory walk away, heard his lean and energetic footsteps fading against the cobblestone. She had been watching him for days now, knew exactly what his route would be. Why she had chosen that particular spot, she wasn't sure. With a shrug, she walked in the opposite direction, meaning to make her way toward the main streets. She was tired. She had given him the envelope, just as she had been told, and had nothing left to do until noon tomorrow, when she would go to Ikana Road and give five thousand rupees to the man in glasses. She had told Link that she was unwilling to go there, yes, but in reality, she didn't mind. In fact, she saw it as her own adventure. Wandering through the streets of Castilia riddled with crime, rebellion, toughness. Illegality. Things she enjoyed thinking about.

_And obviously, I can handle myself anywhere. _

She decided to head back to her flat for the night, perhaps brew herself some tea. Tomorrow would be another day, another adventure, she hoped. As she moved into the flow of people moving about the streets, she let her hood fall back down. Keeping it up would make her seem suspicious, and she knew that nobody would recognize her anyway. She kept her face as still as stone, stoic as an old man, as she walked, averting her eyes of the gazes of others and avoiding even a mere brush of shoulders. She stepped aside, evaded any physical contact with ridiculously honed reflexes. She was so quick, so graceful, so soft with her movements, that she might as well not have been there at all. Her flat was located off the main street in Eastern Castilia (what was once the Sheikah neighborhood of the city, but had since been abandoned by the noble race and replaced by the average citizens), so it was fairly easy and didn't take much maneuvering to reach it.

A large archway led directly into Eastern Castilia. It was a dramatic remnant of the Sheikah who once inhabited this area. It was carved entirely of marble, simple and smooth, except for the very top. There, an eye, all-seeing and a bit chilling to look at, was etched in with unbelievable detail. Each time she found herself looking at it, she wondered why they hadn't finished the image and painted the iris of the eye red.

_With blood, of those who died here, perhaps._

She walked beneath the arch, her face still emotionless, and let her cape billow in the ominous wind that blew through the neighborhood. It was run-down, but not like the other impoverished areas of Castilia. Those areas were just that—impoverished. There were signs of dirt, of hunger, of sadness in those places. But in Eastern Castilia there was a different feeling entirely. A feeling of desertion, of isolation, of haunting remains. One could feel that there had once been something beautiful, something flourishing in this area that had been cruelly stomped out. One could feel the ghosts haunting, floating, never leaving.

That was because Eastern Castilia, which once stood tall, was like a memorial for all the Sheikah that had fled or died at the hands of the crown. The worst part was that it was all so painfully familiar for her.

The woman pretended that she was the only one out on the streets, and she might as well have been. On certain roads in Eastern Castilia, there was not even a stray cat to be seen. On some of the buildings, there were indiscreet bloodstains. On some of the doors, the Sheikah eye was carved into the wood. She walked silently and swiftly to the building her flat was in, walked up the rickety stairs, unlocked the door, and walked inside. But her flat was not immune from the terrible feelings evoked from this area. She still felt stifled, surrounded by ghosts that might have been screaming at her. It wasn't that she couldn't hear them. She was probably one of the few who could. But she chose not to listen.

With a sigh of relief, she took off her cape and hung it on a hook on the door. Beneath it, she was wearing nothing but tight, stained wraps down to her knees, accentuating every single curve and dent of her body. She lifted her long, slender arms and stretched, felt her back crack, and then bent down and wrapped her fingers around her ankles with boneless ease. The flat was modest, only two rooms: a smaller one in which she put her bed, and the bigger, main room, where she put virtually everything else. Though there wasn't much to put.

_It's only temporary, after all._

In the corner of the main room was a long, dirty, body-length mirror. It was the most important thing the woman owned. Once she had stretched sufficiently, she leaped over to where the mirror leaned against the wall. She examined the details of her body, tilted her head to the side a bit, flapped her arms like wings. Then she shrugged and began to undress.

The first thing she did was take out her hair. Even after being tied in that top-knot all day, when she let it down, it was perfectly straight. And it was thick—too thick for her liking, most of the time. It fell down all the way to her buttocks, with shorter, jagged bangs in the front that reached her cheek bones. She ran her fingers through it hastily, undoing any tangles that might have found their way into the yellow strands. Once that was finished, she leaned forward until she was face to face with her reflection. Then, with the ease of a practiced expert, she stretched her eyelid out with her fingers and, with her index finger, lifted the thin contact lens from her eyeball.

Suddenly, her eye color changed from deep brown to bright, blinding red.

She did the same thing with her other eye. Then she placed the two contact lenses in a small box filled with liquid on one of the only other pieces of furniture in the apartment, a simple wooden table. There were four other boxes exactly like it—one for green, one for blue, one for purple, and one for grey. And, obviously, one for brown.

She blinked a few times, became accustomed to her natural red eye-color.

After she was done with her eyes, she began playing with the tight, gaunt skin on her face. She tapped it in certain places, pulled it in others, ran her fingers along the edges of her hairline. Then, she found the obscure flaps at the bases of her long, pointed ears. With a gentle grimace, she pulled. Like a film of plastic, the skin peeled right off.

With her new bright, rosy, full cheeks and natural smile to replace the everlasting frown, she placed the mask on the table with the others. Six total, all of which she had made herself. Her skin was light and smooth, free of any and all blemishes. It was fuller and brighter, her nose and jawbones more angled and sharp. And there, around her right eye, was a red-ink tattoo. On her top eyelid, there was a design that looked like three thick eyelashes. Beneath her eye, a single, rounded line extended to the center of her cheek like a red tear. If she opened her eye at just the right angle, the tattoo made it all look exactly like the eye etched into the archway leading into Eastern Castilia.

She hated that mask in particular.

_Makes me seem like a hard-ass._

There was one last thing the woman needed to do before she could breathe, and that was to remove the wrappings covering her body.

She began at her knees, began gingerly. She twisted the wrapping, around and around, until she reached her crotch area. Then she undid that wrapping, too.

And suddenly, she was a he.

He continued with the wrapping, up and up and up, until it all fell into a crumpled heap at his ankles. Along with the large, round, light cones he had pinned to his chest with the wrapping.

And there he was, the woman who was actually a man, staring at his own reflection, completely naked. His lean muscles rippled when he moved, but they were not completely obvious—he was slender, lightweight. Could jump into action at a moment's notice, but moved with grace and hidden strength.

Sheik had been a master of disguise for years, and had never once been discovered.

_Today wouldn't have been that day. _

He smiled at his reflection. But as soon as he remembered that there was nobody else there, the smile disappeared. Because there was no point in smiling if there was nobody there to see it, he thought. Not when there was so little to smile about.


	4. Wisdom and Power as Partners

**If you haven't noticed yet the first few chapters will be character introductions so WEEE enjoy chappie 3 (that rhymed)**

* * *

Chapter Three

Wisdom and Power as Partners

_"Bring me the King of the Gerudos," I had said. _

_ "Your Highness, he is in hiding." _

_ "And?" _

_ "We would have to search all Four Lands—"_

_ "Then search all Four Lands, and bring me the King of the Gerudos." _

_ "But Your Highness, that would be—"_

_ "Tell me. Who rules the Hylian Cities?" _

_ "You do, Your Highness." _

_ "And who rules the Goron Mountains?" _

_ "You do, Your Highness." _

_ "And who rules the Zora Isles?" _

_ "You...you do, Your Highness." _

_ "And who rules the goddess-forsaken Gerudo Deserts?" _

_ "You, Your Highness." _

_ "Now what does that mean?" _

_ "That you...that you rule all Four Lands, Your Highness." _

_ "Good. Now, I want you to go and bring me the King of the Gerudos. Start your search in the Gerudo Deserts. If he's not there, search the Zora Isles and the Goron Mountains. Search the Hylian Cities, if you must. But find him. And bring him alive." _

_ "Yes, Your Highness." _

_ "And remember," I had smirked, "I don't like to be kept waiting."_

_ And so they brought me the King of the Gerudos._

* * *

One month later, and there he was. Curled up in a corner of a cell in the dungeons of the queen's castle. He was much younger than she had expected—from what she had gathered, he should have been twenty-five, perhaps thirty.

But he was an eleven year-old boy, brought to Castilia all the way from the capital city of the Gerudo Deserts, with beautiful fire-red hair and penetrating golden eyes.

The dungeons were even darker than the rest of the castle in this dead hour of night. It was cold and dank, and she could hear the trickling of water from an invisible source. The sewers, perhaps. She felt chills cover her body and hugged herself slightly, wrapped in a thin shawl, until they disappeared in the face of her comfort. The sense of hopelessness that encased the area, the prisoners and the iron bars and the moans of suffering, were all exactly how she wanted them to be. But tonight, she wasn't there to browse. She wasn't there to watch her various prisoners as they rotted in the wake of their crimes. She was there for a specific reason. So she didn't bother looking into any of the cells. She just walked, proudly and deliberately, toward the very last cell. Her black hair, thrown into a haphazard braid, swayed like a pendulum with each step.

When the queen finally reached it, she could hardly see the person inside. He had almost blended into the darkness completely, sitting in the very corner with his knees hugged tightly to his chest and his face turned away—in shame, in fear, perhaps. She sighed and felt herself beginning to smile as she approached the rusted iron bars.

"Good evening," she said. She saw the silhouette move, but he didn't lift his head. Then she remembered this Gerudo boy's name. "Ali, is it?"

At the sound of his name, the boy finally looked up. She couldn't make out any distinctive features with the exception of his eyes. They were such a bright, dazzling gold that even in the darkness, they shined like beacons. Her smile grew wider.

"Sweet Ali," she sighed. "Do you know why you're here, precious one?"

She watched wordlessly as the boy hesitantly, with shaking limbs, brought up his right hand and stared at it. Even though she couldn't see anything there from where she stood, she could feel it. Simply its presence there was like a fire lighting up within her, making every inch of her body hot. And then she was certain. Her predictions had been correct.

This boy carried within him the Triforce of Power.

The feeling was familiar because she felt it in her own blood, running through her own veins. For she, Queen Zelda, carried within her the Triforce of Wisdom.

"I h-have something p-powerful," he whispered. His voice was terribly shaky, as if weak from the sobs and the screams. "I have something powerful you w-want."

"Poor child. You must be so confused," she laughed softly. "Yes. You have something very powerful. Something very powerful that I need. To make Hyrule a better place, love."

He just stared up at her, hugged himself more tightly, and she watched his soul wither a little bit more. It was a delightful sight. Her soldiers had been tracking him down for the past month. She had to give him credit; he had evaded capture for a relatively good amount of time. Her Iron Warriors had gone from village to village, city to city, in the Gerudo Deserts. They had found him taking refuge in the home of a Hylian family living in the capital city, Dar Al-Naariyyah. A beautiful, grand, cultural city that represented everything that was the Gerudo Deserts.

Of course, the entire family had been executed for treason.

"Guard, give me the key to Ali's cell," she called. One of the three guards manning the dungeons rushed over to her.

"Your Highness."

The guard dropped the key obediently, like a robot Zelda herself had created, into the palm of her hand. Zelda let her silk robe fall around her bare shoulders as she unlocked the cell and saw Ali withdraw further into himself, press himself against the wall. Putting as much distance between himself and the queen, she knew. It was as she expected, after all.

Everything was always as she expected.

The queen stepped inside and the air around her was even colder than before. But she was unfazed, numb to everything around her. The only thing she could see was Ali's quaking body and his watery, glimmering golden eyes. Eyes that even Zelda would have given anything to have.

_Just be patient._

Each step she took, even in her slippers, echoed off the walls like a symphony. She could see his rounded ears shake a little harder each time, could see his beautiful irises trembling, could see the sweat shining on his dark brow even in the cold dampness of the cell. It all made her adrenaline pump, and when she glanced down at her right hand, the blue triangle was shimmering softly. As she knew it would have been—as she felt it was. Just being near this boy made her skin tingle and her blood pump with the feeling of destiny, of the essence of the Triforce. When the queen was finally standing in front of him, she crouched until they were eye-level. Her robe slipped a little bit lower. She reached out and cupped his chin in her fingers, lifted his face so that she could see every detail perfectly. His skin was warm and feverish, wet with sweat.

"Poor, poor creature."

"I-I'll give you what you w-want," he stammered, "but I really want to go home."

"Where is home?"

"Twinrofia," he sniffled.

"A nice little village, I've heard, though I've never visited," she said. "Home of the Gerudo Elders, yes?"

He nodded.

"Kotake and Koume told me that I have something powerful inside of me," he murmured. "Something really, really powerful."

"It's called the Triforce of Power," she smiled. As soon as she did that, his entire comportment softened, his muscles became less tense. Behind her powerful smile, a true weapon in her arsenal, was a smirk of triumph. "When you give it to me, you may go back to your village, precious one."

She moved her gaze to his right hand. And there it was, shining with the slightly red hue she had been expecting. The Triforce of Power manifesting itself on the hand of the young boy destined to carry it—the young boy who, in another life, might have been a true king.

_But not in this life, I'm afraid. _

"I-I can give it to you now," he said. "R-right now! Then I can go home."

"A wonderful idea."

With that beautiful smile sitting gently on her blood-red lips, the queen took his right hand in both of hers. She closed her eyes and took a deep breath, and it seemed for a moment that every ounce of air in the entire room went straight into her chest.

"Concentrate for me, precious one," she murmured. "You must will that your power come to me."

Adrenaline, excitement, a sense of accomplishment pulsed through her. His hand was warm and shaking, like a baby bird fallen from its nest. He closed his eyes and drew in a sharp breath, leaned his head back against the wall. She watched him unwaveringly as strands of raven black hair fell free from her braid, falling messily upon her pale cheeks. Then, slowly but surely, she felt something surging in her veins. When she looked down, she could see a tint of red appearing, like blood, right at the surface of her skin. But she knew that (for once) it was not blood. It was the very essence of power, every ounce of it that the goddesses had been able to give. And it was flowing directly into her. She could feel everything changing, could feel her muscles tensing and her heart beating and her body temperature rising. She felt like fire itself, with invisible white flames, was swallowing her. She surrendered herself completely to it.

And then the deed was done.

Wisdom and power had become partners, flowing through Queen Zelda and giving her the newfound abilities that she needed. To be the queen that she wanted to be.

Ali, the small Gerudo king, opened his eyes. They had lost their shimmer. His brown cheeks were even more gaunt than before, his breathing shallow and uneven, his open mouth chapped and bloody. Sweat poured down his cheeks in rivulets. The queen stared at him with her own, brilliant grey eyes, clenched her fists to feel the power, relished in his look of helplessness. It made her feel even more in control.

"Thank you, Ali," she grinned with a deep breath. "Thank you."

She glanced down at her hand, with her long nails and thin fingers, and saw the Triforce glowing. But now, instead of only the left triangle glowing blue, the top triangle glowed, as well. It glowed red. It was proof that Queen Zelda carried within her the Triforce of Wisdom and the Triforce of Power.

_Let me test my newfound abilities._

"C-can I go home now?" he whispered hoarsely. "To Twinrofia?"

The queen chuckled to herself, but did not let go of his hand. She held it tightly, tightly, tightly, dug her nails into his skin, until he let out a pained breath. Her smile widened. Then she leaned forward until her lip was at his ear, until she was sure that he could feel her breath.

She wanted it to be the last thing he felt. Her power, the power that she had taken from him. Because now, Queen Zelda was not only the most intelligent person, but the most powerful in all of Hyrule, in all Four Lands.

"You will never go home, precious one," she whispered, "and you will never see the light of day again."

Then she released her new, magical power into his body and watched, with pride, as the last breath escaped his open lips. He was still now, bruises left where she had held him, young open eyes glassy and colorless. He was nothing now. Fingers still tingling and blood finally cooled, she stood up, turned and walked out of the cell. As she climbed up the stairs from the dungeon, she paused and turned to look at the guards over her shoulder.

"Dump the Gerudo rat's body in the river," she commanded. "Let the fish dine upon it."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Then, Queen Zelda made her way back to her chambers to sleep.

_Now all I have to do is find the Triforce of Courage. _

_ And that will be easy enough._


	5. Deities in an Inn

**Don't have much to say about this one. More exposition, I suppose. **

**Meh.**

* * *

Chapter Four

Deities in an Inn

Link had stuffed the envelope given to him by the strange woman into his pocket, to join his identification papers. And he had kept walking, walking, through the dark alleyways, avoiding the main streets as well as he could. But as he approached the central plaza of Castilia, even the most narrow streets filled with more inhabitants of the city. He didn't mind much; he was almost at the inn, anyway. The sun sank lower and lower, and the lamps lining the streets began to light. Link always loved walking these streets at night, as many times as he'd done it. The magic, artificial lights combined with the natural darkness set a beautiful mood. He walked like that for another twenty minutes, hands nearly glued in his pockets, until he reached the Central Plaza. By that time, his anticipation of the night's activities (including the divulgence of the intriguing envelope) having grown, Link didn't think anyone or anything could bring down his mood.

Telma's Inn was on the opposite side of the plaza, behind the large, colorful fountain that drew thousands and thousands of tourists from all Four Lands every day. He walked straight through, letting the droplets of water from the fountain land atop his messy head. The lights were bright from within the inn and he could see smoke rising from the chimney. Link knew that, by now, it was beginning to fill. Hylians, Gorons, Zoras, and Gerudos alike were attracted to Telma's Inn like moths to a flame; the tavern within was famous to everyone throughout Hyrule for its drinks. And, when one felt the craving, its soups. Even from across the plaza, singing and dancing and drunken shouts could be heard coming from inside the tavern.

The tavern was especially boisterous that evening, filled with singing and the clanging of mugs. He heard the low, rumbling voices of the Gorons. The smooth, watery voices of the Zoras. The deep, heavily-accented voices of the Gerudos. And, of course, the loud and melodious voices of the Hylians. He saw drinks being spilt, food being shoved down throats, men courting women (and women courting men). There was a group of men near the front of door, screaming as if to hear their own voices, and Link mused that perhaps they would be the ones to instigate the fight today. Or perhaps that quiet-looking Gerudo in the corner. One never really knew with Telma's Inn.

"Link, hun! Yer late."

Almost as soon as he stepped through the door, he heard his name bellowed by a familiar, body-warming voice. A young woman in her early thirties with curls as tight as Link's fingers and as black as night, brown eyes glistening and thick red lips smirking, came up to him. She wore a simple dress, white on the top and brown cloth sewed for the skirt, accentuating her large bosom and wide waist. She was a magnificent specimen of a woman, who could fill an entire street with her milky voice and demanding presence.

She had four mugs balanced in her hands and plates of food lined up along her arms, but she didn't seem bothered in the slightest. In fact, while a normal person might have looked overwhelmed, she appeared completely in her element. She had a wide, yellow-toothed smile on her face and blue jewels (he didn't know if they were permanent or not) adorning the corners of her eyes.

"Evening, Telma," he smiled. Then he glanced down and saw a large, blindingly white cat weaving between Telma's large legs, maneuvering around the fraying threads of her skirt. Her fur was combed meticulously and adorned with a bright pink bow. She blinked her large, brown eyes at him and moved forward, rubbed her face against his boot. "Come on, Louise, be a good kitty and stop tripping people."

He reached down and scratched beneath her chin, listening to her soothing purr while Telma, the renowned owner of the inn (famous for her blackout drinks), chuckled.

"Wish ah could stay an' chat, but ah got mahself loads o' work tahnight," she sighed. "Yer milk's on the counter, aiight sweet pea?"

"Everyone else here?" Leaping over Louise, who was still purring loudly, he whisked a large mug off the counter and sniffed. Definitely warm milk and honey. The only drink he ever had Telma make him. He was the type who hated waking up with a headache.

"Not ev'ryone."

"Okay. Well thanks a bunch, Telma."

"Oh, an' Link, hun, tell Fado tomorrah that ah need some more o' that milk," she called after him.

He raised his mug to her and began maneuvering to the very back of the tavern, taking a swig of his drink as he did. Louise had paused, considered following him, but then decided that Telma was better company. He didn't mind much. He squeezed past tables, avoided the coquettish batting of eyelashes on every side of him, tried to keep his cumbersome sword from bumping into any poor sap's head. Finally, he reached a small, circular table in an alcove in the back of the inn, where it was a bit less rowdy. It was a familiar table, one at which Link had sat more times than he could count.

"No, stop, your stance is all wrong."

The first thing Link heard that stood out from the din was a low, husky voice that he would have recognized anywhere. There was a young woman standing at the other side of the table, having kicked aside her chair. She was bouncing on the balls of her feet, light fists held up in front of her chin. Hair a shimmering silver, cropped just below shoulders in youthful, uneven layers that stuck out in every possible direction. Wide eyes green and exuberant and full of life. A smile wide and sparkling on her face—she had something unique about her teeth. White, but her two canines seemed strangely longer, sharper than most. When she smiled, they stretched out over her bottom teeth and made people wonder how she'd gotten a smile like that. One that made others smile almost instantaneously.

Standing across from her was a nervous-looking man, standing stiff in comparison to her loose and flowing stance. His hair was the color of polished copper, in a bed of perfectly coiffed curls atop his head. Glasses, constantly sliding down the ridge of his sharp nose, always sat in front of his eyes, giving him a scholarly look. And his clothes made it seem as if instead of heading to an every-man's inn, he had been on his way to the most prestigious noble in all of Hyrule's home. Long coat, shimmering boots, expensively sewn trousers, and a white cravat to top it all off. His lips were pressed together tightly, his fists shaking slightly. Link smiled.

"You have to loosen up," the girl nodded. She grabbed the man by the shoulders and shook him a little bit. "When you fight, you always have to be moving, and stiffness is your worst enemy."

"B-but I don't want to fight. As the great philosopher Sturgeon once said, fighting with fists when one has brains is the biggest waste of all—" He spoke with the kind of accent that only the nobles of Hyrule had.

"Come on, with your position, you're going to have to eventually," she winked. She was wearing, as always, clothes that were originally made for men. A sleeveless white shirt (meant to be an undershirt) stained black with soot and her own sweat. Tight black riding pants ripping at the knees from how often she knelt, black riding boots that were dull and fading in color. Hands covered in bruises and wrapped to cover fresh cuts. "Here, throw a punch at me. Don't be shy, I won't let you hurt me."

Shaking with uncertainty, the man reached his fist outward. The girl didn't flinch—in fact, she didn't even move. The edges of his knuckles just barely brushed the tip of her dainty nose. Her brow furrowed, frustration flashed in her eyes.

"That was pathetic," she said.

"I'm sorry."

"When you punch, you have to turn your knuckles at the last minute—" here, she showed him the punch in slow motion, bringing her fist just in front of his glasses, "—to get the right amount of power. And you have to snap it."

Just as the man was about to try another of his meek punches, Link slammed his mug down on the table loud enough that they both stopped, turned, looked at him with startled expressions.

"Evening," he smiled, licking away his milk mustache.

"Hello, old chap! So nice to see you," the man in the petticoat gushed. He looked at Link in relief, having been saved from his impromptu fighting lesson. He retook his seat at the table after shaking Link's hand warmly, with that firm, enthusiastic grip only he could manage. Then, Link caught the eye of the girl standing across from him. She had a smirk on her lips, a beckoning look in her eyes. She had not stopped bouncing.

She did not greet him.

"Come over here and let's show 'em how it's done, will ya?" she said with a tilt of her head. Link could not protest. (He had known this would happen—that was why he hadn't bothered sitting down.) He walked sluggishly to stand across from her, slowly lifted his hands from his pockets. She had raised her fists to her chin, was staring into his eyes fiercely. "Pay attention, Shad!" she screamed at the man, Shad, who shrunk back anxiously in his seat.

"What do you want me to do?" Link asked.

"Just come at me with all you got," she grinned. "And don't go easy on me, okay? Seriously, all you got."

Link obliged, the milk still churning in his stomach. He stood still for a few minutes, searching for some kind of opening she might have been offering. Then, with what he believed to be immense skill, he hopped forward with a jab straight at her nose. With a sneer, she slipped her head to the side. Almost instinctively, he punched with his other hand—she slipped her head to the other side. Then, before he could process what was happening, she jumped forward and shoveled her fist up into his stomach. He doubled over, wheezed, while she brought her fist up again and snapped it against his chin. Pain erupted throughout his jaw, and the next thing he knew, she had thrown him over her shoulder and onto his back.

As she stood above him, hands on hips and laughing, he could only stare up dizzily at the ceiling.

"I thought you'd have gotten better by now, big lug," she teased.

By that time, the entire tavern was staring at them, mouths agape. Link was still too disoriented to really comprehend what was going on, so he just lay there and tried counting the scratches in the ceiling.

"Damita, you could have really hurt him!" Shad cried. Link coughed, as if to affirm this, but the girl just shrugged. Then, in the silence suddenly hanging in every corner of the tavern, she reached her hand down. He allowed himself a smile, grabbed her hand, and let her pull him up. He ignored the pain in his jaw, in his stomach, in his back.

"Rusty, rusty, rusty," she clicked her tongue.

"Maybe you're just too good," he argued once he found his voice. He realized then that she was standing breathtakingly close to him, chests brushing, and that her fingers had grasped the edges of his pants. He smiled.

"Maybe..."

Still smiling like a child, Link put his hands on her waist and pulled her hips against his, bent his head down, pressed his open lips to hers. He hoped he didn't smell too much like horse. She rose slightly on her toes, and he could taste the alcohol on her tongue.

"Really? The entire tavern is looking at you," the man at the table sighed. Link pulled away, left himself stare into her eyes. "At least wait until you get back home."

It was a well-known fact that Link and Damita enjoyed, more than almost anything, sleeping with one another; it was also a well-known fact that they did not, actually, love one another. But the physical electricity between them was certainly undeniable. Everybody in the tavern could feel it.

After she gave him one last wink, pulled away when he tried to kiss her again, Link smirked to himself and sat down at the table. It was the three of them, their filled mugs, falling into rhythm with the tavern and the conversations. Link with his milk and honey—Damita with her rum—Shad with his wine (he was quite the lightweight). They had all been best friends for three years.

And, in fact, they had been the first three members of what was now Hyrule's most prestigious mercenary group.

The Fierce Deities.

(The title was actually very ironic because neither Link nor Damita, the founders of the group, believed in gods.)

"Where's everyone else?" Link asked.

"Work, I guess," Damita replied. She stared glassily into the mug in front of her, swirled around the rum. "Don't think they're making it in tonight."

"Bummer. I just got an interesting assignment."

Damita and Shad lifted their heads, looking over at each other with furrowed brows. Her lips turned up into an intrigued grin, while his lips turned down into a concerned frown. The exact reactions that Link had been expecting. He brought his mug back to his mouth and felt the milk slither down his throat.

"Well? What is it?" she asked.

"Not sure. I haven't opened it yet. I wanted to let Shad see it first."

Shad opened his mouth and looked as if he were about to protest, but didn't have time before Link brought the envelope from his pocket and slid it across the table to him. It was a bit wrinkled, but the thick wax seal was still intact. Shad picked it up off the table and brought the envelope right to his eyes, pushed his glasses up his nose as if that allowed him better sight. Link had been able to sneak a glance at the design on the wax—it was a dramatically designed "M" with an X behind it, composed of a hammer and a piece of wood. Some kind of monogram or coat of arms. But, of course, Shad knew the origins within moments.

"Mutohson," he said, laying the envelope back down. "It's from House Mutohson."

"Never heard of 'em," Damita sighed with a swig of rum.

"They come from a long line of laborers—men and women who have worked in the service of Hyrule for generations. Carpenters, blacksmiths, farmers, miners, any type of labor you can imagine. Hard, hard workers." Shad paused with a nervous chuckle.

"What are people like that doing with a fancy-ass wax seal like this one?" Damita mused.

"My thoughts were along the same lines at first. But evidently, the current Mutohson patriarch is quite the criminal. It seems as though he decided from a young age that he wanted for his family to abandon the life of a mere laborer and live more, well, lavishly, if you will."

"They're gangsters," Link finished.

"Essentially, yes. The patriarch got involved in criminal activity, and now they practically run the black market."

Link grinned to himself, recognizing the fact that he had been right. Not a trustworthy assignment, but an intriguing one all the same. They hadn't been hired by real gangsters for a while. (And they would definitely have the money.) Although he couldn't help but think that the woman he'd met in the alley hadn't looked very...gangster-like.

"Where in blazes did you get the envelope, old boy?" Shad inquired. He was the type of person who loved to call people by lavish names, like "good chap" and "old boy."

"A woman gave it to me. Said it was important."

"Well, open it up!" Damita pressed. "Go on."

Link put his nail beneath the wax seal and lifted it up. There were two pieces of parchment inside, one with a map of a large mansion and one with the contents of the assignment. He read it aloud for them.

"Fierce Deities: Two moons ago, a family heirloom was stolen from us. Please retrieve it from the following location: 400 Dotour Street. And kill the man who lives here."

"Vague, to say the least," Shad sighed. His brows furrowed, his eyes glassed over, in the way that signaled the gears of his mind had begun turning intensely. He was thinking everything through with meticulous detail, Link could tell.

"Do they think we're stupid or something?" she cried, downing the rest of her rum. "Like we'd take an assignment like that."

"Already accepted."

Damita and Shad brought their mugs down to the table so hard that it shook, stared at him with dropped jaws.

"You're even more stupid than I initially thought," she said. He just shrugged and leaned back in his chair. He couldn't help but notice how divinely sexy she looked when she was angry.

"D-do you even know who lives at that location?" Shad asked. Link shook his head. "Well I do, as a matter of fact."

"Geez, Shad, how do you get all this information?" Damita asked. Though she knew the answer. Shad was Hyrule's leading underground informant—he had spies everywhere, knew nearly everything and everyone there was to know in Hyrule. Especially Castilia. Link and Damita had always considered themselves lucky; Shad could have easily been employed for much more money by the crown itself, but he had chosen their side instead. In fact, he had accumulated such knowledge specifically to work for any side opposite the crown.

"Who?" Link said.

"Firen Viscensen," Shad answered, "head of the queen's Royal Guard."

"Head of the what now?" Damita spat.

"The Iron Warrior of the Iron Warriors," Link chuckled. "We can get rid of another of the queen's dogs for some cash."

The Fierce Deities were mercenaries. They took their assignments, they did what was asked of them, and they took their money. But they had ulterior motives—motives that had initially inspired Link, Damita, and Shad to form the group. They wanted to do whatever they could to bring down the crown. It was a wonder they had not been imprisoned yet.

Actually, it wasn't.

Shad had his connections. He had his cover-ups.

Zelda knew they existed, certainly, but that was all. The mysterious Fierce Deities, always a thorn in her side (or so they hoped).

In the end, obviously, Shad's spies were stronger than hers could ever be.

Clients knew to keep their mouths shut, too. Link was sure that his name, along with the names of the other members of his team, was floating around the heads of the Royal Council and the head of the queen herself by now. But they were clever, they were clean, they were sneaky—they had nothing. They were too powerful in Castilia, untouchable.

And besides, they were all very careful to never leave any evidence at a crime scene. That left their papers wonderfully, squeaky clean, even as they killed the queen's dogs right under her pretty little nose. Known in the underground world of rebellion and black markets and criminals, where nobody would dare sell them out—that was what Shad assured them. That they truly were untouchable. They had been so far, at least.

"How much did you charge?" Damita asked.

"Ten thousand."

"Shit."

"Extremely dangerous," Shad cried. "The security will be tight, there will no doubt be a plethora of Zelda's Iron Warriors stationed—"

"We've handled worse," Link interrupted. He wasn't worried. This was going to be an adventure, after all. A test of their abilities.

"—it could be a trap, Link," Shad finished with a deep breath. Instead of responding, Link drank down the last of his milk and used a spoon to gather the remaining honey at the bottom. "The queen may have finally found you."

"Well then, we'll just have to make sure we don't get caught, won't we?" he smirked. "I told the client to meet you at noon at Ikana Road tomorrow with the first half of the money. Tell the others that we'll meet at Dotour tomorrow at midnight."

Shad sat erect in his seat, the same concerned sparkle shimmering behind his spectacles. Damita pushed his mug closer to him knowingly. He took an unusually big gulp, then removed his glasses and cleaned them absentmindedly.

"One of these days, babe, you're going to get us all killed with that sense of adventure you got there," Damita smiled.

With unbelievable subtlety, such that if Link hadn't been paying extreme attention he might not have noticed, Damita bit her lower lip. He stretched his leg out under the table and brushed her foot, felt her push back.

_Sense of adventure indeed._

* * *

**Yay for more characterssss weeeeeeeeeeee reviewwwwwwww**


	6. Hell's Betrothed

**More OCs! Yay! **

**You'll see a lot of them in this story. A lot in the first ten chapters, really. I hope you'll give them a chance =3**

**When my sister read it, she said that the first six/seven chapters were pretty boring, but then it picks up. **

**It's getting there, I promise!**

* * *

Chapter Five

Hell's Betrothed

The young man lay on his back in a large, comfortable bed in one of the hundreds of rooms in Hyrule Castle, staring at the ceiling, knowing that he should have been sleeping. But sleep had been the farthest thing from his mind for so long—it was overshadowed by every other thought, every other worry, every other doubt and uncertainty. So much uncertainty, he thought. Too much for one to sleep, surely. It was dark in his room, the curtains of the windows having been shut. He wanted to draw them back to look at the stars, the moon, but he knew that if he fell asleep with the curtains drawn, the sun in the morning would give him the most terrible headache, one that would leave him bedridden for the day. So he lay in the darkness. There was silence, too. The terrible, crushing silence that made it all too easy to drown in one's thoughts. It was moments like this, in the silence and the darkness and loneliness, that he thought of his current situations. Too many terrible ones to count.

The worst being his engagement to the queen.

_Hell's betrothed. _

It wasn't so much the queen herself that he minded. He had convinced himself long ago that somewhere inside, there was something beautiful in her. Something that he could learn to appreciate, to enjoy. Something that he hoped he could bring out in her as a dutiful husband. No, it was not the queen that he minded about the engagement. Not yet, at least.

The problem was that he was not attracted her. Not because she was not beautiful; no, the queen was exquisite. The most beautiful woman in Hyrule, people said.

Years ago, Karis had finally come to terms with the fact that he was attracted to men. A secret he had been carrying with him, weighing down on his weak heart and shaky shoulders. And when his father, a Royal Councilman, had arranged for his marriage to the queen, everything had crumbled. Marrying her meant keeping his secret for the rest of his life. Though it was quite probable that that would have been the case anyway. Not many people would have been willing to accept the secret, he guessed. But such a secret would crush him even sooner than his illness.

He turned to his side and grasped the blanket more tightly to his chest, wondered how he had gotten to such a terrible place. Good intentions, he knew. His father had requested that Queen Zelda meet with him, discuss the possible marriage, with the best of intentions.

_He wants the best for his only son,_ he thought. _Or perhaps he simply wants the best for the family name._

Karis's father had been honest with the queen.

"He is sick, Your Highness," he'd said. "He will die before he is thirty years old. But he will be a good husband—he will give you the heir or heiress that you need."

And the queen had accepted. She had accepted a fiancé with the most debilitating illness known to humanity, one with which he had been born. One that made his bones brittle, his heart and lungs weak, his skin whiter than paper. She had accepted that within seven years, he would be dead. He knew why. His father knew why. The entire kingdom knew why.

_She doesn't want a king._

Karis shut his eyes as tightly as he could to drown out his own thoughts, tried as hard as he could to find a happy thought. If not a happy thought, then no thoughts at all. He wanted sleep. He felt that his body needed it (as weak as it was). He felt a chill coming on, a potential fever beginning in his core. He didn't want tomorrow to be a bad day; he had planned on going out to Southern Castilia, to the poor neighborhoods there. But if tomorrow was a bad day, he would have to stay in bed.

Suddenly, he heard footsteps in the hallway outside. Teeth chattering and hairs sticking up from his skin, Karis sat up and listened more closely. The footsteps were familiar, light and gentle but with a powerful rhythm. They were footsteps he recognized, footsteps that made his fibrillating heart sink down into his stomach. But he could not resist his curiosity. Careful not to let go of his blanket, he swung his legs over the side of the bed and grabbed the headboard to help himself stand. Then, with the blanket still wrapped around his shoulders, he stepped into his silk slippers and opened the door.

There, making her way down the hall, was the queen herself. Even in the darkness, the silence, she walked with authority. With control over everything around her, with an austere expression on her face. Back straight, steps graceful and poised. Delicate and strong all at once. But there was something different about her, he noticed. A golden glimmer in her eyes, a red pallor to her skin. Karis had been sleeping in the room beside hers since their engagement six months ago, and he had never once seen her out so late and looking so ghostly. Simply the image of her, in the nearly transparent nightgown and long, raven-black hair, was haunting. Nevertheless, Karis stepped out from his room into the hallway, his own royal blue hair unkempt from his constant tossing and turning.

"Good evening, Queen Zelda," he greeted with a smile.

"Karis." She paused outside of her door. When her gaze fell upon him, there was coldness there. But he maintained his smile. "It's not like you to be up late. You should go back to bed."

"I just wondered who was out here," he said. "May I ask what it is you're doing up so late, Your Highness?" She did not respond at first, but continued staring. Her eyes moved up and down his body, as if scrutinizing and criticizing every single detail of his being in her mind. It chilled him. As it always did.

Then, she lifted her right hand. There was a triangle shining up from her skin, one that Karis had seen countless times. One big triangle made up of three little ones. But this one was different, he noticed.

It was different because two of the little triangles glowed instead of one.

The top one was red.

The left one was blue.

"I grew impatient," she whispered.

His heart dropped. He had been in court when she'd ordered that the Gerudo King be found and brought to her. He had also been in court when they'd dragged him in, from the Gerudo capital of Dar Al-Naariyyah, a young boy with innocent tears streaming down his face.

"What of Ali?" he asked. He had made it a point to learn the boy's name when he'd seen his face for the first time. The true face of a child. "You didn't—"

"Yes," she said apathetically. "I did."

"Did...did you have to kill him?" he murmured. His words were weighed down by the heaviness of it all, the realization that an innocent boy was dead. Zelda smiled and raised a thin, dark eyebrow. She seemed amused at such a question.

"You are so naïve, my poor dear. Of course I did."

"He was only eleven."

"I am aware of his age."

"Why, Your Highness?"

"I may have his Triforce, Karis," she explained, "but he has a country. An entire population that would rally behind him without a second thought when the time comes. If I let him live, one day, he would rise up against me. He would realize what I did to him, and it would come back to haunt me."

"But he was so willing. I can't imagine that he would ever—"

"That is because your imagination is rather limited, darling," she interrupted, "while mine is rather far-reaching."

They stared at each other for a few moments, she as elegant as a painting. He with his hands grasping his blanket and his soft violet eyes sullen.

"Y-yes, Your Highness. May I ask another question?"

"Please."

"Why did you need him here alive?" The question had been on his mind for a while now. "Why didn't you just kill him when he arrived?"

"The Triforce is a complicated entity, Karis. When one carries a part of the Triforce within oneself, it is connected not only to one's skin, but to one's soul. To one's heart, to every part of one's being. And to rid oneself of such an entity, one must will with all one's heart that the Triforce leave." She lifted her right hand and showed him the triangles glimmering there, one gold, one red, and one blue. The gold was faded compared to the other two. "So you see, I needed the boy to will with all his heart that his piece of the Triforce come to me. And I had to will with all my heart that my body accept the Triforce."

He nodded, lacking the strength to respond. Emotional or physical strength, he wasn't certain.

"Of course, the Triforce of Courage is a different story. This one may prove difficult to find. But I have a plan. I always have a plan." She opened the door to her chambers, bade him a cold good night, and went inside. He was left alone in the dark hallway, still unable to comprehend the reasoning behind her actions. He had never understood anything she'd done, anything she'd said.

_I am destined to live in this darkness forever, aren't I? _

Before his shivers became unbearable, hell's kind, delicate betrothed dragged himself into bed and fell asleep when he finally grew too weak to stay awake.


	7. Love But No Love

**Here is chapter six! This chapter is rather...ahem...sexual, as a warning. Not to deter anyone. There's not anything TOO explicit, but it is all rather heavily implied. **

**BUT THERE IS CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT SO IT'S NOT JUST SMUTTY I PROMISE.**

**So a word about the different perspectives in the story. There are multiple characters from whose point of view I'll be writing. About five or six, I think. More as the various characters are introduced. But their perspectives will be told in 'chronological' order. So if Link is doing something one chapter, and Zelda's doing something else in the next chapter, then they're either at the same time or happening consecutively. I hope that makes a little bit of sense. I think it'll make more sense once the story continues. **

**Enjoy!**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Six

Love But No Love

Shad lived in Northern Castilia, while Damita and Link lived in Western Castilia. So when they decided to leave the tavern for the night, bidding Telma their fond goodbyes, they parted ways in central plaza. He to the north, and they to the west. The two hardly ever went north; it was the noble part of town, nearest to the castle, where the aristocrats and the noblemen and the diplomats and the fat, wealthy councilmen lived. Only when an assignment called for it did they even look toward the northern part of town.

Damita, surprisingly enough to Link, had not gotten as drunk as he'd been expecting. She could not walk in a straight line, of course, but she was relatively aware of her surroundings. Today must have been a good day.

Most days, Damita was stubborn, feisty, rebellious, loved to laugh and tease. Glowed with something vibrant and attractive.

But she had episodes—bad days—during which she would talk to almost nobody, drink her weight's worth in rum, and cry at night when she thought Link was asleep because she didn't want comfort. (The problem was that Link hardly slept at night, anyway. A part of the reason why he was such a religious napper. Something about the night drew sleep away from him.) Thankfully, it had already been a week since her last episode. _Making progress,_ Link thought.

As they walked the familiar path, she wrapped her arm around his waist and pinched him playfully, leaned her cheek against his arm. Link did not look at her or say anything, but he liked being this close to her. It was late—the streets were nearly empty, and those they passed were the usual drunks trying to find their way home after long, thirsty nights at the local pub. Even if he had been blind-drunk, Link was convinced that he would have been able to find his way home. He had walked this path, straight from the inn, perhaps more times than he had walked any other.

Link and Damita turned a corner and saw the armory. Above it was the flat in which they lived together; they had been friends for five years, living together for four years (sleeping with each other for one and a half). The armory was on the corner of the street, in between a boutique and a sandwich shop, its door pitch black. The sign hanging above it seemed even flashier than usual, and definitely fancier than one might expect for an armory and a smithy. In beautiful cursive letters, painted a shimmering white, 'Damita's Armory' was written. As they stood on the front step, she stepped away from him, reached into her pockets, then groaned.

"I can't remember where I put the keys," she mumbled to herself. She was chewing on her nails, a dastardly habit she'd had for years. "They were right here."

"Here, babe." Link steadied her. The only way to deal with Damita (drunk or sober) was with a clear head and a soft voice. He had had plenty of time to learn that she responded well to his voice at its most soothing. She was not one to deal with any temper other than her own. As he kneeled and reached into her boot, she began cursing herself under her breath and leaned against the door. He knew that she always kept her keys in her left boot—her lucky boot, she always said. The click of the key in the door was like music to his ears, like the sound of coming home. For this place truly was the closest thing he had to a home.

The silver-haired smith had closed the armory hours ago; it was completely empty and completely dark. There were a few chairs scattered about the room, where her customers sat during the day. Toward the back of the room were a large counter and the register, where Damita sold her weapons and made a relatively obscene amount of money every day. Link always wondered why she continued to live in the fashion that she did. She could easily have afforded a house (a nice one) on the northern end of town, but for some reason, she always chose to stay on the western side. Even as one of the most revered blacksmiths in Hyrule. There was a large wall behind the counter, and an opening embedded in the wall that lead to a room in the back where she actually forged the weapons.

On the wall behind the counter, weapons of every variety hung. Swords, bows and arrows, spears, axes, rapiers, shields, lances, everything one could imagine. She had forged every single one herself, kneeling in the heat of the furnace every day in an (successful) attempt to supply Hyrule's citizens with only the best-crafted weapons. The two of them knew the armory like the back of their hands, and could navigate regardless of the presence of light or the presence of drunkenness. Together, Link and Damita walked up the stairs on the other side of the room, which led up to the three apartments above the armory, each stair creakier than the last.

Surprisingly enough, neither of them knew very much about their neighbors. Simply that they existed. The man who lived directly above them was extremely old and owned the sandwich shop beside the armory. And there was a girl who lived at the very top, perhaps around 20 years old, who worked at a pet store a few blocks away. Sometimes the chirps of birds of the barks of a dog wafted down to Link and Damita's apartment while they were trying to sleep. The old man and the girl were both relatively reclusive, so Link and Damita never saw very much of them. But they did trust them enough to give them keys to the armory—after all, the armory was the only way to get up to the apartments.

Link used the same key that he'd used to open the armory to open the door to their flat. Damita stretched out her arms as she sauntered in, while he dropped the keys and his sword on the nearest table, lit the lantern there, and took out his hair until it fell down against his shoulders. The apartment had three rooms: the main room with a table and a couch and a punching bag in the corner, the kitchen, and the bedroom (connected to a small bathroom), with nothing but a two-person bed and a dresser with a mirror. Damita had already taken off her shirt by that point, and her bare back was to him. He stopped and stared for a few moments. It was a familiar sight, her bare body like that, but it still intrigued him every time.

On her back were countless scars. Red, blistered lines popping out from her skin and shining in the light of the single candle that she had lit. They covered nearly every inch of her back, up and down and left and right. His smile still soft, Link stepped out of his boots, put his hands in his pockets, and leaned against the doorframe. Just watched for a few moments while time slowed down and he forgot everything else. She kicked off her shoes, wiggled out of her pants, and threw her clothes into a dark corner of the room. Where they would, he knew, stay for the night.

"Close the door, would you?" she said in her slurred voice, turning over her scarred shoulder. She knew they were there, of course, but she had grown accustomed to pretending that they did not exist. In a way, Link was jealous. At least she remembered what her scars meant—all of his meant nothing to him. No memories remained from the first fifteen years of his life, except for his name and, luckily enough, his skills with a sword. He stood still for a few more moments before smiling and stepping inside. The door was almost completely silent as it closed behind him.

Finally, she faced him, magnificently beautiful and magnificently fiery. She walked with a confident aura that made every step tremble, and her skin looked warm in the dim light that perhaps shouldn't have even been there in that room. And he saw, as always, the tattoo inked on her skin. It began in the center of her chest, a flower in bloom. Then its roots, drawn so intricately in black ink, weaved their way down, around the center of her stomach and circling back, until they reached just beneath her belly button. A beautiful tattoo, he had always thought—he had tattoos of his own, but hers had always appealed to him most.

Link's skin was already tingling. He grabbed his shirt and began lifting it over his head, only for Damita to step forward and grab his wrists. She was so close that he could feel her breath falling just at the base of his neck. He tilted his chin down to graze her forehead with his lips. From so close, her hair looked like pure silver—like the kind of silver one might use for the most valuable embroidery.

"What?" he asked. She blinked her bright green eyes and let her hands just sit, like butterflies, against his wrists. Her lower lip jutted out just slightly.

"I wanna do it," she murmured, her voice like that of a child's. Link raised his eyebrows and chuckled. Some nights they were fiery and intense and impatient, moving as if the world were about to end and ripping each other's clothes off. But some nights, like this one, they were slow and passionate and relished in every moment. She ran her fingers through his wavy, sandy hair, pulled lightly on the small blue earring at the top of his left ear, then grabbed his left hand in both of hers. Slowly, she pulled the black glove over his fingers and let that drop to the ground, too. On the back of his suddenly exposed left hand was a rugged scar, in the shape of a triangle. He had had it ever since he could remember (not very long, unfortunately). But he liked that she was holding it so tenderly.

He shrugged. Damita smiled then. She rested her hands against his chest and let them float down to his stomach. First, she pushed the brown vest he was wearing—unbuttoned, as always—off his shoulders until it fell to the ground. Then she straightened the high collar of his old, loose white shirt, tugged lightly on its edges. The silence that hung between them as she gracefully pulled the shirt over his head was such a nice silence. One in which they understood one another, but also understood that words would have ruined everything. Then the shirt was on the ground as well, and his exposed skin, bronze from his days beneath the sun, felt hot against her light fingertips.

She pressed her calloused palms against his chest and, each time he breathed out, she breathed in. Like their breathing was that of one. Her lips hovered above his skin right in between his collarbones, sent shivers across every other inch of his body. He realized then that his own calloused hands had moved to her arms, and his rough thumbs were softly moving back and forth. Almost in perfect time with the beating of his heart. Unbelievable, the way they connected, releasing his body to her while she released hers to him: they were both rough, both scarred (inside and out), but both soft in an indescribable way.

Her fingers began moving along his chest, tracing the outlines of every toned, tan muscle and inventing patterns of their own. She pressed her lips harder then, until he could feel every detail of them. Her fingers moved to his shoulders and down, down to his wrists, his hands, weaved through his fingers, squeezed until he squeezed back. She took another step closer—was dangerously close now. Her lips moved from his chest to his neck, where they lay tender and provocative. She pushed a little bit harder, until his back was against the scratchy wooden surface of the door. They were chest to chest now, his hands intertwined with hers, his mouth on top of her head. Her hair smelled like fire, and he breathed it in as deeply as he could.

"Damita?"

"Hmm." Her hands had moved to the edges of his pants and were slowly, deliberately, untying them while he put his hands on the sides of her head.

"Come with us tomorrow."

"No," she smiled as his pants fell.

"Come on, babe," he said. His voice was practically at a whisper because, if he was being truthful with himself, he was scared of her reaction.

"Are you seriously bringing this up again? I don't fight. You know that," she sighed. He thought that she might have been much more angry if she hadn't been busy kissing his neck.

"You fought me today in the tavern."

"Stop it. I haven't fought—actually fought—in three years, I'm not going to fight in this mission, and I'm never going to fight in the future. I deal with your weapons, okay? That's it. Now will you stop asking me that and just kiss me already?"

He decided it would be best to just listen to her. He grabbed her face and lifted it, brushed the corners of her eyes with his thumbs, leaned back against the door. And he kissed her. He kissed her hard. He could feel her lips smiling beneath his, could feel every vibration of her body. She grabbed his hands again and pinned them against the walls, stood on her tiptoes, made him wonder which heartbeat was his. Then, just as he thought he was about to lose his mind (in the best way), she stepped away and let go of his hands. Her cheeks were red now, her breathing hurried. Without a word, she turned her back to him and walked, knowing that he was watching, to the bedroom. She climbed on top of the mattress and dropped to her back, her eyes looking up. Outside the window, Link could hear the sounds of the city coming alive in the night. Footsteps, conversations, dancing and singing and lights flickering. But he didn't care much about what was out there.

"Come here," she ordered. He obeyed without a second thought, clambering beside her. He wrapped his arm around her bare stomach and pulled her in closer, kissed her shoulder and buried his face against her neck. It was during moments like this that he forgot everything else—all of his problems, the open-endedness of the future, the nature of the world in which they lived. All of it just disappeared for a few hours.

They were a dangerous few hours, he knew.

"When are we going to stop being so stupid?" he whispered against her skin. But he didn't give her a chance to answer.

He lifted himself until he was on top of her, pressing his tongue to her neck and feeling her back arch. Her deep, freed breath crashed into his ear. Their legs intertwined and he felt nothing but her. Wanting to feel nothing but her. Her fingers dug into the skin of his back as she closed her eyes, breathed out each time he touched her. While she moved beneath him, he grasped the sheets of the mattress, wondering what good he had done to deserve this feeling.

"Maybe when we fall in love with each other," she sighed. "But until then, we'll keep doing this."

"What about after we fall in love with each other?"

"I don't know. I've never thought that far."

"Who will fall in love first?"

"You, definitely."

He chuckled against her neck.

"And anyway, I'm never falling in love with anyone ever again. Remember?" she continued.

He didn't want to hear her talk anymore, so he brought his lips to hers and stole any words inside. And then they made love—spectacular, glorious love—without being in love.


	8. Scholar and Dancer

**Chapter seven! Yeah, still not much action. **

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

**For those of you who have read my other story, An Assassin's Heart (shameless plug, perhaps?), you probs recognize Damita and know that I really liked her as an OC. My favorite creation...**

**UNTIL NOW.**

**The character introduced in this chapter is FOR SURE MY FAVORITE OC THAT I HAVE EVER CREATED. She my baby. I hope you like her.**

**As always, I hope you enjoy, don't forget to leave a review to let me know what you think!**

* * *

Chapter Seven

Scholar and Dancer

He stood in front of his mirror and began dressing. A crisp, ironed, collared white undershirt without a single wrinkle. Smooth beige trousers fitted perfectly to his lean legs into which he tucked that undershirt, buttoned, straightened out. Over the trousers, he laced up knee-high black boots, with pointed toes and polished until they sparkled. They were all the rage nowadays. Over his shirt, he buttoned up a bright red vest, made of his favorite fabric. It was the kind that sparkled if the light hit it at the right angle (and he always knew the right angle). Once his vest was buttoned and perfectly fitted to his skinny chest, he popped the collar of his undershirt, a nice trick he had learned from Link, and fastened around it a thin red bowtie to match his vest. Next was his favorite part. He straightened his shoulders to make himself as tall as possible, and then grabbed his long-tailed coat from the hanger in his dresser. It was black, to match his boots, with silver and red buttons. It fit his torso perfectly, fitting into his waist and then flaring out around his legs.

Finally, the finishing touches. He ran the ChuChu jelly through his hair until it was perfectly curled and held in place, then he took a single strand and wrapped it around his finger. He released it, and that single perfect curl fell across his forehead. And, of course, he could not forget his glasses, especially as expensive as they were. He put them delicately onto his nose, tinkered with his reflection until he had them in the perfect position.

Shad, after an hour of preparation, was finally ready for the day.

_My, I look rather dashing, don't I?_

He had a lot of errands to run that day, and would not have time to stop at the armory. Which was why he had decided to where as nice an outfit he could gather—in his free time, Shad worked for Damita in the smithy. And when he worked there, with the steel and the furnace and the soot, he could not afford to where his expensive clothing. Why she had agreed to hire him, he was not sure; he was clumsy, restless, definitely not good with weapons, and had nearly burned Castilia down multiple times. But he enjoyed it, nonetheless. It distracted him from his other work, and Damita was certainly a pleasure to work with. Shad had convinced himself long ago that the only reason she'd hired him was because he was a good friend. For, if he was being honest, she was in no need of an assistant.

Shad had many places to go, many people to see. But first, he would have to alert the others of the assignment for that night, as Link had asked. Though he would have to do it before noon, when he was to meet the woman at Ikana Road. He walked down the grand spiral staircase from his bedroom down to the entrance hall, grabbing his book and small dagger from the nightstand beside his canopied bed. The heels of his boots echoed throughout the vast room against the tile floors while he told the servants and the butlers that he would not be back for some time, and that he would be away for lunch. Then he opened the door and left his mansion, heading for the northeastern part of town. He decided that would be the best place to start.

His house lay on the main road of Northern Castilia, Lanayru Avenue. With its large size, extravagant front gardens, and loud fountains, it fit in perfectly with the rest of the houses. And Shad fit in perfectly with those roaming the streets that morning. For he was among the nobles and the aristocrats; there were times that he felt guilty living such a luxurious lifestyle, but he decided every time that that was the way things were and he accepted that.

And besides, Shad was not one to sit on his bum all day and relish in his wealth.

With his genuine smile and enthusiastic eyes, he greeted those he recognized and those he didn't, making sure to watch his step lest he trip. They all knew him by name.

_Shad Bookerstone_, they said as he passed, _old Walt's son, isn't he? Every bit as clumsy and frazzled as his father was, he is!_

Shad did not have the best sense of direction. He had been to his destination before, but afraid that he would get lost, he opened his notebook to the page detailing the route. He read the instructions carefully, glancing up every few moments to avoid colliding with any passersby. He turned left at the end of Lanayru Avenue, walked for a little while, and then took another left. Here was perhaps more diversity than even the main roads of central Castilia. The buildings in this area of town, unlike in many other areas, all looked completely different. Some were wooden with the trademark characteristics of a Hylian home—others were like small huts made of stone squeezed in, clearly built with Goron hands. But he was looking for neither a Hylian home nor a Goron home.

When Shad finally reached his destination, he found himself standing on the doorstep of a familiar home. It was a tall building, taller than the wooden ones beside it. It was built of plaster and the entrance was a large, beautifully carved archway. Deep beneath the archway, a few meters in, was a wooden door with a round, bronze knocker. In order to knock, Shad had to duck beneath the archway and take a few steps forward into the shade. Of course, he double checked the number of the building to make sure it was correct; he did not need to embarrass himself that morning. Making haste to pack away his notebook, he lifted the knocker and let it drop down against the door. He heard footsteps shuffling from behind the door, a few moments passed, and then it opened.

"Shad, little cat! Good morning," the Gerudo woman greeted.

Before he could respond, she touched his arm gently and kissed both of his cheeks. A traditional greeting, she had always told them. Her hair was a deep red color, almost purple, and it fell in broad waves to her waist. The front was held back by an embroidered bandana, and hanging from a nostril of her slightly hooked nose was a golden hoop. Her eyes were a blinding gold, her skin a dark, shimmering, sun-kissed olive. She was wearing a long, wide red dress, with golden stitching in patterns that Shad could recognize as tribal Gerudic patterns.

"Please, please, come in." When she spoke, her accent was heavy, but flowed like honey down one's throat. She stepped aside for him to enter.

Walking into her home was like stepping through a portal to the Gerudo Deserts. The main area was not even inside the building—it was an open courtyard, with an intricate fountain in the center that trickled lightly and checkered tile and strategically placed plants. There were doors surrounding the perimeter of the courtyard, leading into the various parts of the home. Shad remembered that the last time he had visited, it had been raining, so she had taken him to a different living room. There had been tapestries on the walls, exotic carpets, words written in a language that he could read only after years of study. But the day was sunny and beautiful, so instead, she led him to a shaded alcove of the courtyard, where there were sofas so low to the ground that one felt as if he were sitting directly on the ground. Before stepping up into the alcove, Shad unlaced his boots, since she had stepped out of her slippers.

"Your home gets more beautiful each time I see it," he gushed.

"You are too kind," she smiled. It was a breathtaking smile. She was short and not slender, but even with the dress, one could see that her body was the shape of an hourglass. Wide hips, confident aura, a way of attracting the attention of anyone within ten miles when she so much as walked. Every move she made, every word she uttered, every time she batted her eyelashes, she did it with a borderline inhuman grace. She moved as if constantly in water, letting the flow of the current control her movements.

Shad assumed that, as a dancer, it was her job to be so graceful.

_And yet, standing before me now in her own home, she is still the most graceful creature I have ever seen._

"Would you like some tea? I know you enjoy your tea," she said, the r rolling off her tongue heavily.

"Tea sounds lovely."

She poured him tea from a glass kettle and handed it to him with both hands before pouring herself a glass and sitting on the sofa across from him. As the warmth seeped through his skin, he took a sip, and nearly swooned.

"My, Raazi, what type of tea is this?" he cried. He still felt that the sound of her name was strange coming from his lips. Her real name, Scheherazade, was difficult to pronounce for those who couldn't speak Gerudic as their native tongue, so she had advised them to simply call her Raazi.

"Rose tea."

"Where might I find this?"

"I know a Gerudo woman who owns a store in Western Castilia. I can give you her address."

He nodded, and they sipped their tea together in silence, before he spoke up again.

"You're not at work yet?" he asked.

"Work does not start until evening, the goddesses willing," Raazi chuckled. "People are busy during the day to watch belly dancers."

"I suppose you're right." She truly was beautiful, with sharp eyebrows and a rather sharp tongue.

"Did you go to the inn last night?" she asked. "Work went late and I could not leave."

"Yes, I did. That is, in fact, what I came to speak to you about." He paused to clear his throat, and was beginning to feel warm beneath her sweltering gaze. The trickling from the fountain water was comforting. "Link received an assignment for tonight."

"Did he, now?" She grinned mysteriously and sipped on her tea. But she sounded as if she already knew. She always sounded like that.

"Y-yes. Though I don't believe it's very safe."

"Good luck convincing him of that. He is...what is the word...stubborn."

"That he is," Shad laughed. "That he is. Stubborn and too brave for his own good."

"What is this dangerous assignment?"

"The assassination of Firen Viscensen."

Raazi raised her eyebrows as she drank more tea. He was amazed at her ability to swallow, as he had been unable to drink any more because of how boiling it was. An acquired ability, he decided.

"Dangerous indeed," she mused. "How much is client paying?"

"Ten thousand, Link said."

She laughed, muttering something in her native Gerudic tongue, spoken so fast he could not catch it, as long as he'd tried studying the language. "Giving ten thousand rupees to a group of mercenaries is quite the investment, no?"

"You're right," Shad nodded vehemently. His nerves were beginning to dance, and he fidgeted with his teacup. "It's extremely suspicious, if you ask me."

"Though I doubt Link did ask you."

"Right you are, my dear, right you are. As Sturgeon said, one cannot answer if one is not asked."

By that time, Raazi had finished her cup of tea already. Shad watched with flitting eyes as she stood up, poured herself another cup, and then sat back down. She tucked her legs beneath her and blew lightly on the surface of her cup. She looked so natural, and for a moment, he completely forgot that he was, in fact, still in Castilia.

"Where are we meeting for assignment?" Raazi asked.

"Dotour Street, at midnight."

"Then I shall leave work early, the goddesses willing," she nodded. "I suppose I will have to take my daggers with me to the restaurant."

They chuckled softly together. Shad always enjoyed conversation with Raazi. She was easy to talk to, and when she truly wanted to be, she was the wittiest person he had ever known. Her tongue could cut like a knife. But she was also the most mysterious person Shad had ever known.

"You have...how do you say it...you have your work cut for you tonight," she said.

"I have my work cut _out_ for me."

"Yes, that. Hylians have strange sayings."

"We could say the same about Gerudos," he observed. "But yes, I do. I have to plan like a maniac if you are going to survive the night."

"Then plan, little cat! Go, plan. Take some tea with you, if you like." She began waving her hand, widening her eyes at him with playful urgency. When she was not drinking her tea, Raazi was one to talk extensively with her hands and use terms perhaps commonly used in the Gerudo Deserts, but didn't quite translate to Hylian. When she had first started calling him 'little cat,' she had said that it was a common nickname in her home, used for only the most clever children. Shad had to admit that he enjoyed when she called him by that name.

"I'll have to tell the others," he sighed as he stood up. "Do you think they're at work about now?"

"Yes."

"Very well then. I do, in fact, have my work cut out for me."

She stood up and walked him to the door, her hips swaying and her dress flowing back and forth with them. As she opened the door for him, she kissed him on both cheeks again, and gave him the address to the Gerudo woman's shop. He stepped out of her home—out of the Gerudo Deserts—and back into the Hylian Cities. Back into Castilia.

"I will see you at midnight," she waved. "Plan well. May the goddesses be with you."

"Thank you, I always do," he called back. Then he began his trek down to the ports past Southeastern Castilia.

_I always do._


	9. Granddaughter Queen

**Chapter eight weeeee**

**So Nacnud7 asked a few questions about Raazi, the Gerudo introduced in the last chapter, so I'll clarify (just for you, beautiful person). **

**Her full name is pronounced Sheh-ra-zod. It's a very, very old Persian name. If any of you know 1000 Arabian Nights, Scheherazade is the woman telling all of the stories included. If you don't know the full story of that masterpiece, I highly recommend you look into it. **

**Raazi is Gerudo and, according to the game designers, the Gerudos are based off multiple cultures, including Arabic and African. I've decided, because of my Arab roots, to really go full on with the embracing of Arabic culture, and basing the Gerudo race on it. So Raazi's accent is, in our world, an Arabic accent. Her home is also based on the old homes you'd find in countries like Syria. **

**As you can see, I welcome questions, and love answering them. Don't hesitate! I hope that cleared things up :) **

**Enjoy this chapter. It's a short one!**

* * *

Chapter Eight

Granddaughter Queen

The queen paused on her way to the throne room, dressed elegantly and beautifully. She was in the Hall of Buried Faces, where the portraits of deceased ancestors hung. The portraits of those who had ruled the Hylian Cities. She stepped up to a particular portrait (the second to last) and stared up at the regal face in the painting, so similar and yet so different from her own. It was like looking into a distorted mirror. There was a plaque embedded in the elaborate golden frame. It said, Arielda the Conqueror.

_Arielda the Conqueror. _

_That was the name of my grandmother. She was queen of the Hylian Cities of Hyrule, but during her reign thirty-two years ago, she conquered all Four Lands and made them one after the six-year War of the Four Lands: the Hylian Cities, the Goron Mountains, the Zora Isles, and the Gerudo Deserts. Now, they have all become a part of one Hylian Kingdom, ruled by one queen. _

_ Her name is spoken with fear and respect by all of Hyrule's inhabitants. Of that, I am jealous. The title of conqueror, I think, would best be suited to me. The one who holds the world in the palm of her hand and who creates earthquakes with each step she takes—that is a conqueror. That was my grandmother, and that is I. She sat on her throne and looked out upon her prospering kingdom, and with a flick of her wrist, it grew larger. Her conquests grew more and more abundant, her divine name as queen spoken by more people. Entire armies knelt at her feet, raised their swords to the cities and the people that dared defy her. They fought not for love, not for loyalty, but for fear that their worlds would crumble the minute she frowned. That is what I want, and that is what I have. But my grandmother took that title before I had the chance. Arielda the Conqueror. I suppose I will have to settle for the title I have earned myself. _

_ Zelda the Hard-Hearted. _

The throne room was empty, just as Queen Zelda had ordered. She sat alone on her throne, staring down the red carpet leading to the large wooden doors at the end of the hall. The sound of other people's voices had begun to irritate her, so she had demanded that she be left alone in the throne room. And without a second thought, a second glance, without even a second breath, the guards and lords and ladies and jesters had fled the room. Now Zelda sat by herself in a room where, even alone, she felt the power coursing through her veins. She stared at the door for a few moments, and then directed her gaze to her hands. They were gloved with a gift her mother had given her, passed down from her grandmother and great-grandmother (and so on) before her. They were the purest white, with the traditional patterns of the Royal Family: the Triforce. But the queen was not interested in the gloves.

With a smirk on her lips, Zelda took off her gloves. She was conscious of the expression on her face, calm and fragile. She was conscious of the grace with which she freed her fingers of the fabric binding them. But most of all, she was conscious of the electric tingle in her fingertips. Once the gloves were completely off, she laid them on the armrest of the throne and examined her fingers, one by one. Each of her nails was long and sharp enough to resemble a claw, and she held up her hands to admire the delicacy. But Zelda was not interested in the appearance of her hands, either. The only thing in which she was interested was the tingling she felt at each one of her fingertips. Most strongly at her right index finger.

The queen's smirk was growing wider. She put her right hand into a loose fist and then lifted her index finger. At the very moment she did, a hot, purple spark erupted from the tip of her finger. It burst brightly, like a miniature firework, crackling loudly and powerfully. Then it calmed, it quieted, it dimmed, until it was a soft ball of sizzling electric currents hovering above her finger. Then, with an effortlessness that made her entire body swell with pride, she flicked her finger. The purple ball sliced through the air at a speed untraceable to the normal eye, until it slammed into the door across the room. It crashed with another dramatic crackle, and then disappeared. But it did not disappear without leaving its mark. There, in the impeccable wood of the door, was a burn mark.

"Beautiful," she murmured. "Just beautiful."

Still, the queen was not satisfied. She opened her hands and watched, holding in her excitement and her sense of power, as sparks began to fly between them. She concentrated harder, flexed her arms, breathed out into the air around her. And slowly, the sparks grew larger and larger, hotter and hotter...until there was a ball of raw magic there. As hot as fire, with the ability to burn through metal. It was the most intriguing shade of purple. But, of course, Zelda still was not satisfied. There was something else she needed to make herself more powerful, something else she needed to strike more fear into the hearts of those who even considered rebellion.

She had the wisdom, and she had the raw power. All she needed was the courage (or at least, the façade of courage) to combine all three and make her the most formidable person in all of Hyrule. She knew that there were no sorcerers, no warriors, no witches, no alchemists, who at that moment could rival her power. But there were civilians. Citizens in every corner of the Four Lands who felt resentment, a thirst for vengeance—these were the souls, the strong senses of hope, that she needed to stomp out. And for that to be possible, she needed the Triforce.

All of it.

To ensure that her ancestors' legacy lived on. To ensure that the war her grandmother, waged thirty-two years ago lived on forever. To ensure that six years of battle and a war won were not wasted.

And to ensure that Queen Zelda became the most powerful ruler that Hyrule had ever seen or would ever see again.

_It won't be long now,_ she mused, staring at the Triforce on the back of her hand. _It won't be long._

Suddenly, slicing through the wondrous isolation of her thoughts, there came a knock on the door. The queen suppressed her displeased scowl and begrudgingly allowed entrance.

"Your Highness." Karis walked into the room, wearing his trademark white suit. Tight and perfectly fitted, not like the rest of the clothes considered fashionable in the world of nobles. And the princess wondered why, with the paleness of his skin and gauntness of his face, he always insisted on wearing white, with blue embroidery. As if his papery skin could only handle such a color. His hair, a rich, royal shade of blue, was parted and combed neatly to one side, leaving his violet eyes to sparkle.

He might have been handsome, the queen thought, if he weren't so sickly. So skinny, so pale, so fragile when he walked. It seemed as if any moment his bones might simply give up, and would crumple into a pile where he once stood. His skin hugged his bones like there were no muscles there. His eyes were sunken, his lips thin and dry, every part of his face gaunt. And yet, there was a regal air to him. He walked with a kind of pride she found of amusing. Perhaps his illness was empowering to him, she thought. He didn't have much else to empower him.

"Hello, Karis," she said. "What do you need?"

Her fingertips were still tingling, were not satisfied, and she did not appreciate interruption.

"I came to request a leave of court, Your Highness." His voice floated like leaves in the still air around him. But he breathed shallowly, with evident effort. Zelda pursed her lips and ran her fingers along the necklaces that lay against her open chest.

"Why?"

"To go to Southern Castilia, Your Highness," he continued with a soft smile. "They are building a new school there, and I—"

"You want to go offer your assistance," she chuckled. He truly was an amusing character, a pleasure to have in her court simply because of the ridiculousness of it all. It was at moments like this that the queen was happy she had chosen to marry Karis. "You can hardly stand on your own, yet you want to help children in impoverished areas?"

He paused, and then his lips turned into a charming little grin.

"I can stand just fine, Queen Zelda." As if to prove his point, he lifted his arms, took a step forward, spun a little bit. She decided to play along. The queen slipped the gloves back over her fingers and clapped lightly.

"Lovely performance, Karis," she laughed. "Very well. Be back by supper. Take a carriage and three servants with you."

"Oh, that won't be necessary, Your—"

"Do not question me," she interrupted, maintaining her honey-sweet smile. "Just do as I say."

She watched the sparkle in his eyes fade, but did not flinch. In fact, she didn't even blink. She kept her steely gaze on him, her deceitful smile, her single raised eyebrow. Until, finally, he gave one last nod before whirling around and walking back out through the doors. Once she was alone again, she lifted the gloves once more and watched the electricity at her fingertips.

"Ah, my darling Karis," she mused, "things will be so much easier once you are dead."


	10. Oyster Woman

**Another OC yayyyyyyyyyyy i hope you guys aren't bored to tears (TuT)**

**i promise it'll pick up soon really there's lots of action and cool stuffs and...**

**...i need to go study for my exams now...**

* * *

Chapter Nine

Oyster Woman

It might have been easier to take a carriage, Shad realized much too late. It was an hour's walk from Raazi's house to the harbor. The summer day was hot, he was burdened by the task of keeping his boots clean, and he could feel the gel coming loose in his hair. It irked him so. But he continued walking, regardless. He had passed through Central Plaza approximately twenty minutes ago, and he could smell the fresh water in the air and hear the seagulls above. He was sure to be close to the harbor. Shad continued walking the cobblestone streets, checking his watch every so often, waiting for the bells at the Temple of Time to announce the hour. In fifteen minutes, it would be nine o'clock. A good start to the day, he decided, and continued walking.

The wide, main city streets began narrowing. Shad, in his formal outfit and notebook and clicking heels, passed by more and more people of the water. He saw sailors, some with their pristine white suits and others with their dirty bandanas and torn pants. The buildings, always hugging the ends of the curb, were slowly becoming more and more spaced out, disappearing into beautiful cottages that had spiraled roofs (a habit the Zoras carried with them everywhere when building their homes). The Zoras themselves were seen walking the streets here, smiling and whistling and greeting others in their gargled, somehow lovely, voices. Their scales sparkled in the sun, their eyes glistened, the strange hoops they had pierced through their fins jingled. Shad always enjoyed the company of Zoras, and the harbor was one of his favorite locations in Castilia. There was a sense of freedom here, a sense of there being a bright future. Smiles—real, genuine smiles—surrounded him.

Suddenly, the cobblestone beneath him faded to wood, and he was walking along the docks. Boats, some as small as canoes and others big enough to carry an entire militia, were squeezed in like sardines against the docks, their sails whistling in the breeze. Not the sea, of course, but a river. A wide, flowing river that seemed to have no beginning and no end (but of course began up north, in the Snowhead Mountains), running from here in Northwestern Castilia down south to the Zora Isles. Where, of course, it emptied into the Great Sea. In the clear areas, fishermen both Hylian and Zora cast their nets or dove into the waters. The more adventurous and skilled ones leaped onto their boats and left for deeper waters, to find the bigger, more evasive fish. The toona and the heavy skippyjacks. Shad always loved a good, meaty grilled toona for dinner.

"Hey, you!"

Shad heard that voice and turned, whisked his gaze away from the river. There, jogging toward him, was Damita. She was waving, her face flushed and her breathing short, but with a smile wide on her face. Her hair was tied back from her face, leaving thick strands to fall just above her eyes, and though she paused in front of him, she continued jogging in place. She was wearing pants cropped to her mid-thigh and what seemed to Shad a simple piece of black cloth reaching just beneath her chest. The bottom half of her tattoo was visible to the world.

"D-Damita!" he stammered with a smile. "Interesting to see you here..."

"Whaddya mean, goofball?" she laughed, with as much breath as she could muster. "I run along the docks every morning." As if to prove her point, she began jogging circles around him. Amused people walked on by, suppressing their chuckles and their stares.

"Of course, how could I be so forgetful."

"Having fun with your little errands?" she teased, punching him lightly in the arm. He flinched anyway. Being around Damita in this situation made him nervous—the other Hylian women passing by were wearing their dresses, the female workers in their uniforms, and here she was like a sore thumb. Shad had to hand it to her; only Damita had the nerve to do what she wanted in a city like Castilia. A city with trained, robotic Iron Warriors on every corner. But she was taking control, feeding from the attention and the murmurs of, Such a strange, rebellious girl. She appeared as if she had come here from a different era, a time period in the future, and had come back to bestow her wild ways upon the ignorant people of the present.

"Yes, well—"

"You're so goddamn cute in your little clothes!" She was beginning to make him dizzy, running around in circles like that. He was frightened for a moment that he might just topple over into the river.

"Isn't it a little late for a morning jog?" he sighed. "You have a forge to run!"

"Eh, I'll start up late today," she shrugged. "Trouble waking up this morning, vicious headache."

Shad pursed his lips and fixed his glasses skeptically.

_What kind of girl with a hangover can run like this at nine in the morning?!_

"But I should be heading back," she nodded. "Gonna open up at ten today. Lots of orders. I saw Anowaika down over by the caverns if you're looking for her."

"W-wonderful, thank you, Damita."

"Anytime, goofball. See you later!"

With one last punch to his arm, Damita waved and continued off down the docks, well aware of every single eye following. Shad let out the breath he had been holding, wondering why such strange, surprising conversations made him so anxious.

_Frazzled, they call me. _

He pushed his glasses up on his nose, tucked his notebook safely into the crook of his arm, and continued down to the caverns. The most delicious oysters were found there, and when one was lucky enough to find a pearl, they sold for thousands of rupees (more on the black market, of course—Shad could pull the prices straight from his brain at a moment's notice). It was also where Anowaika worked nearly every day. Very few people could dive deeply enough to gather the oysters, and she just happened to be one of them. He saw the caverns growing larger and larger as he neared them, separated from the docks and the ships. There was an alcove dug into the beach a few meters below, providing shade from the sun. A cove, with glistening sand, lined with Zoras and Hylians preparing for their dives. Shad, holding tightly to his notebook and pushing his glasses as far up as he could, leaned over the edge of the railing on the dock. He searched below for Anowaika.

Finally, his eyes fell upon her. Even from above where he stood, he caught her almost instantly. She had the most bright, beautiful blue eyes one would ever see. She waved at Shad excitedly when he called her name, said hello in her soothing watery voice. Her scaly skin was the most gentle combination of blue and green, and her fins were long and graceful. Even when she sat completely still, they swayed back and forth, a habit maintained even in the absence of water. Compared to the other Zoras, she was tall, slender, and an extremely vibrant shade of blue.

"I need to talk to you, my dear!" Shad called down to her. The wind carried his voice.

"I'll be up in a bit," she called back. "Let me get in one more dive!"

Before he could protest (for Shad could never predict the length of a dive), Anowaika dove headfirst into the water. Since it was within the shade of the cove, he could not see clearly beneath the water. So he waited, still leaning over the railing, while the other Zoras and Hylians followed suit. Though, obviously, the Hylians were not diving empty-handed like the Zoras. They wore masks specially made with Zora scales to allow them limited breathing beneath the water. And, of course, they wore flippers.

Sooner than he had been expecting, Anowaika's body shot out of the water, twisted gracefully in the air, before she landed without a sound back on the sand. She had two oysters, one in each hand. She dropped them into a basket, then began haphazardly climbing the rocks. As she grew closer and closer to where Shad stood, he grew nervous. Zoras were not climbers, after all. He watched her with bated breath, his glasses slipping down lower and lower.

"Hi, Shad!" she said when she reached him. She placed the soles of her flippers on the rocks, grabbed the railing, and leaned back in a carefree manner. It made Shad's stomach turn.

"H-hello, Anowaika."

"Are the scales damp lately?"

"Are the what?"

"Fins, Ano! Are the fins damp lately!" cried a Zora from the cove.

Anowaika pouted, throwing him a disappointed glance. The scales around her eyes, down her nose, and down the fins protruding from her scalp were blue, while the scales around her mouth and on her cheeks, down to her chest and just beneath her stomach, were white. Two flippers, comparable to hair on Hylians or Gerudos, fell down on either side of her face with metal hoops attached at the end—behind her head, a beautiful little flipper with a tail on the end swayed back and forth. Down her forehead was a straight line of three small, green stones. Even Anowaika wasn't sure why the stones were there, for they were unique among the Zora people, specifically, Sea Zoras (like Anowaika). But they were beautiful, regardless.

"I swore I had it that time," she sighed. Then, she turned back to Shad. "It's a traditional Zora greeting I learned today. Lylo taught me. He just moved here all the way from Isle Hylia." Lylo, Shad assumed, was the young Zora male down in the cove. Lylo waved, and Shad awkwardly waved back.

"Nice to meet you!" the Zora cried.

"L-likewise."

"So, what's up, Shad?" Anowaika grabbed his attention once more. Her smile sparkled, as it always did. She had the strangest habit of being able to spread her happiness, as if her smile were contagious. And it was always there on her lips, always sparkling, always forcing Shad to smile, as nervous as he was. "It's not like you to come all the way down here just to visit little old me."

"Well, I'm actually here to alert you of an assignment Link has decided to accept."

"Really? He didn't even talk to us about it. That jerk," she said, though her tone was playful.

"He's determined to go through with it. It's dangerous and, therefore, intriguing for him."

"Let's hear it."

"It is the assassination of Firen Viscensen," Shad whispered.

Anowaika paused, blinked her eyes, and then threw her head back and laughed. Not the reaction Shad had been expecting, and he reflexively shushed her.

"Wow! We're in for it this time," she giggled. "Do you have a plan yet?"

"No."

"When are we meeting?"

"Midnight, at Dotour Street."

"All right. I'll be there. Oh, and Shad, you don't have to worry about going to the mines, all right? I'll let Vukan know." Her expression softened, her eyes kind.

"Really? That would be most appreciated, my dear."

"Any time. Now go do your planning. Vukan comes back home from the mines at around eight—I'll tell him what's going on. See you tonight!"

With one last smile, Anowaika leaped backward into the water, letting her watery laugh fill the morning air. As her slender frame disappeared once more beneath the silver ripples, Shad took a deep breath of the fresh air, nodded to Lylo, and walked back toward Ikana Road.


	11. Miner with Diamond Necklace

**OKAY I SWEAR THIS IS THE LAST CHAPTER OF RANDOM CHARACTER INTRODUCTIONS THE NEXT ONE IS ALL ACTION REALLY I PROMISE**

**(i go to bed now)**

* * *

Chapter Ten

Miner with Diamond Necklace

The miner with the diamond necklace had worked hard all day, putting every muscle into every moment. As he did every day. As he had every day since he could remember. Working, digging, mining what he was told to mine and keeping back his beads of sweat. All while he wore his diamond necklace, a silent, sacrificial symbol around his neck that glimmered more brightly than the diamonds that he was mining.

He was, without a doubt, larger than any of the others—of course he was larger than the Hylians and the Gerudos working the mines. That was only natural. But the one with the diamond necklace was even larger than the other Gorons working around him. He cast his shadow over them, had to tilt his huge head downward to look into their eyes when they spoke up to him. Most were almost perfectly eye-level with the necklace. When he moved his huge, mountainous body, stepped with his trunk-like legs, the entire ground shook beneath him. As if he carried an earthquake within his very bones.

The sun was beginning to set and the miner was ready to go home. He walked, felt the earth rumble beneath his rough feet, up to the warden of the mine, carrying the burlap sack of ore that he had mined that day. Tomorrow would be a coal mine; yesterday had been a diamond mine. The warden, a short, stocky Hylian man, was standing with a toothpick between his teeth and wads of cash sticking out of his dirty trousers. The miner walked up to him and dropped the sack at his feet, then wordlessly held out his hand.

"Good work," the warden said coldly. "As always." He took a few paper rupees and put them into the miner's open hand. But his small, watery eyes never left the diamond necklace. "Hey, Vukan. When ya gonna sell me that necklace, eh?"

As silent as stone, the Goron shook his head once. Closed his large fingers around the paper rupees, and turned to begin his trek home. It was the same response he gave every day, to any different warden who asked. The diamond necklace was not for sale and never would be. He had tried to make that clear.

It was fifteen minutes from the ore mine to the gates of the city; from there, since the entrance closest to the mine was the city's southern entrance, his home in Northwestern Castilia was still another 45 minutes. The road leading to the southern gates was populated with other miners, their faces stained black and their hands calloused and their steps slow and sluggish and heavy from the days out in the hot sun. The miner with the diamond necklace walked past all of them, spared none any passing glances, kept his gaze straight forward. He heard some greet him, and he would throw a nod in their general direction; but he never waved, and he certainly never said anything to them. He simply kept walking toward the gates. Once he reached them, he obediently pulled his identification papers from his traditional Goron loin cloth and, after the Iron Warrior absentmindedly scanned them, walked through the metal doors.

He could almost hear dinner calling him, could practically feel the relief of being at home. In a place that was familiar and felt more like a home than anything else in Castilia (or the Hylian Cities in general, for that matter). He walked purposefully, with his slouched back and creased face. But, as always, he felt oddly uncomfortable when he reached the ports of Castilia. A place that he knew was not meant for him.

The Hylians, Zoras, Gerudos, gathered there on the docks stared at him shamelessly. They watched every moment, their brows furrowed and their lips moving with their surprised mumbles. Why is there a Goron here, of all places? they thought. He had small, beady eyes that were hardly visible, scars etched into his tough skin, spikes running up and down his back like built-in weapons. White tattoos marked his forehead down the sides of his neck, tattoos consistent with the miners and warriors of the Goron Mountains. He was, in fact, a large and proud Goron. A conspicuous creature. And that was why he was scrutinized so at the ports. If there was one place in Castilia that Gorons avoided, it was the ports. They avoided bodies of water in general like a plague—they were certainly more deadly.

So why is there a Goron (especially one that...that big!) walking so casually, so comfortably, along the wooden docks? they murmured to each other. But the miner had become so accustomed to these stares, these murmurs, that they had stopped mattering. They had blended into the sound of the water, the ripples, the bustling water life, long ago. He simply walked, unafraid of slipping into the water to his death after years of walking this same path to his home. He would not have wanted to live in any other area, surrounded by anything different. He was happy there. Though it was strange, he had to admit to himself. A Goron not only walking along the docks, but actually living there. Unheard of.

But Vukan was a special situation. He always had been special, really.

His home was small, but he could see it from far off. It blended in with the other houses around it, the homes that spiraled up and were decorated with shells and fish bones. Huts that were constructed, undoubtedly, with the webbed fingers of Zoras. He couldn't even feel the stares on his back anymore as he approached the front of it, pulled out his key, opened the front door, and walked in. He imagined the spectators were all still watching the door, wondering what in the world a huge Goron like that was walking into a Zora house like that. It didn't matter what they said. When he walked inside, it felt wonderful and refreshing.

"Vukan! Welcome home." Before he had even closed the door, he heard that voice and his tense muscles eased. Within moments Anowaika was there, smiling her smile and making him feel, for a while, like the most loved person in the entire world. The same greeting he had received every day for the past three years, since he had essentially put his life on the line to live with her. She grabbed his hand and began leading him toward the kitchen. "I have dinner ready. You don't have to worry about a thing."

The inside of the house didn't look as much like a Zora home than the outside, perhaps due to his strong Goron influence. Not the usual reflective colors one might expect, the seashells, the intricate decorations made entirely of fish bones, the man-made fountains with small waterfalls seeping onto the floor to give the Zora inhabitants the comfortable feel of water around their feet. It was much more simple than that. There were a few pictographs hanging on the walls of various people of all races (the members of the Fierce Deities). A painting or two. A vase in the corner, pieces of humble wooden furniture. If not for its outside appearance, it could have been the home of anyone.

"I'm sorry, it's fish again tonight," Anowaika sighed. She pulled out one of the wooden chairs at the table, for Vukan to sit. After she made a weak, inspiring attempt to push him in, she took a seat across from him. Just as she had promised, everything was already set. But there was a third plate set at the table. Unusual.

Vukan's sense of smell was not very strong, so even when he bent his head toward the plate, he could not smell the fish.

"I know you don't like it very much. But, actually, I found some amazing rocks down at the cove today. I washed them really well, since I know you don't like kelp residue, but I think you'll like them," Anowaika said.

He noticed then that, next to the fish on his plate, there was a pile of rocks. He reached forward and squeezed Anowaika's webbed fingers in his for a single, quiet moment. His most affectionate way of showing gratitude without uttering a word. Then he popped one of the rocks into his mouth and savored the flavor that erupted against his huge, dry tongue.

"I'm glad you like it," she smiled. Then she began to pick at her fish. But he noticed that every few moments, she threw a cautious glance at the front door. As if waiting for something to happen there. "You look tired today, Vukan. Long day, I'm guessing."

He blinked at her.

"Yeah, me too," she replied. "But I have some exciting news! We have an assignment for tonight."

Vukan did not even look up at her. He simply kept eating, a sign for her to continue.

"It's a pretty dangerous one, but you know Link." Her voice was muffled through her enthusiastic chewing. "The assassination of Firen Viscensen. Commander of Zelda's Iron Warriors."

She lowered her voice then—it was common with them, knowing that even the walls had ears. They had to be careful all the time. Though Vukan had stopped worrying about words. For he did not speak them. In fact, when he had first arrived in Castilia, everyone had thought that he didn't know how to speak or understand Hylian because he was silent, that he only knew Goro. Even though he understood it perfectly and could, if he desired, speak it without a single trace of an accent. He just chose not to.

"We're meeting the others at midnight, on Dotour Street," she continued. "Shad said he'll have a plan by then—and I'm sure Link will, too. Sound good to you, big guy?"

Vukan nodded discreetly, chewed on his rocks, tried to ignore Anowaika's anxious glances at the door. It made him nervous, though he would never betray that to her. Then, just as he was beginning to relish in his discomfort, there was a knock on the door. Anowaika shot from her seat, making him cringe from the sound of her chair against the floor, and bolted to the door. He watched out of the corner of his eye without moving his head. Just before she opened the door, standing excitedly on her tiptoes, she glanced back with an apologetic look.

"Sorry, Vukan," she whispered. "I invited someone over, if you don't mind. A new friend."

Then she opened the door. There was a Zora standing there—a male Zora, perhaps with some River Zora blood in him—with strong, rippling muscles, a blinding smile, and eyes that (at least from afar) looked perpetually crossed. The shade of his scales was more dark, dark blue, and he was wearing a supposedly fashionable black collar around his neck. Anowaika greeted him and invited him inside.

"Vukan, this is my friend, Lylo," she introduced.

"So you're Vukan!" the Zora smiled. He extended his arm to the grand Goron, an eager expression on his face. When Vukan looked into his eyes, he seemed superficial. Too desperate to please. "I've heard so much about you."

Vukan stared silently at Lylo's hand, did not make any move to shake it. To even acknowledge the polite greeting he had been given. After a few silent, terribly awkward moments, Lylo bit his lower lip and withdrew his hand. Vukan was aware of the reproachful look Anowaika had thrown him, but chose to ignore it. She did not say anything about it. She simply pulled out the chair for Lylo at the third spot of the table.

"Lylo moved here from Isle Hylia about a week ago," she said to Vukan. "He's been working at the coves with me."

"It's great here in Castilia," Lylo added. "Really, a very cultural city."

"I don't know," Anowaika sighed. Vukan understood then that he was no longer a part of the dinner. Simply a spectator who occasionally sucked on a rock. "I would give anything to go to the Zora Isles for a bit. Castilia gets a bit old after twenty-six years."

"It's a lot less strict here."

"Really? You think so? But it's the capital city. There are Iron Warriors around every corner."

"You'd be surprised," he chuckled. "Outside of the Hylian Cities, there are even more of them scattered around. Back home, the Goron Mountains, the Gerudo Deserts, on the borders. I guess the further we are from the castle, the more control Queen Zelda wants. It's way more strict over in the Great Sea. Especially because of the tension between the River Zoras and the Sea Zoras."

"Shh! Don't talk so loudly, Lylo."

"Oops, sorry. Sometimes I forget."

"Still, I'd love to visit the Zora Isles. My mother was from Isle Hylia, after all."

"Hey, how about I take you with me next time I go back, huh, Ano?" Lylo suddenly cried. He was already almost completely finished with his fish. Vukan watched Anowaika, scrutinized her reaction. It was as he had been expecting. The color drained from her face and she looked down at her empty plate. She suddenly became shy, fidgeted with her silverware, avoided eye contact, shifted her position. Timid, not like her usual self.

"Maybe," she murmured half-heartedly. Lylo was oblivious. He began telling her about his home back in Isle Hylia, the bustling capital of the Zora Isles, about the people and Zora's Domain and the culture there. All the while, Anowaika listened patiently, but with a pained smile on her lips. Not the same, kind smile that was usually there. It was hard for Vukan to watch her face contort like that.

For the sake of creating some type of disturbance, Vukan stood up with a great rumble. He pushed against the table so that it shook, stood up with such force that the ground rumbled, grumbled as loudly as he could. Anowaika and Lylo both stared up at him, silenced. Suddenly, Lylo's green eyes widened and he stared in admiration at the Goron before him.

"That necklace!" he cried. Then he, too, stood up. He did not have to bend down to look at it. With Vukan's height, Lylo was at eye-level with the necklace. "It's absolutely beautiful, Vukan. Where did you get it?"

"I wouldn't if I were you—!" Anowaika attempted to say, while Lylo reached his webbed fingers out to touch the necklace. But she was too late. With tenderness, Lylo grabbed the stone and brought it closer, examined it.

And, like a reflex, Vukan lifted his arm and sent him flying across the house.

"Oh, Nayru, are you okay, Lylo?!" Anowaika rushed over to where he lay, crumpled down at the wall against which Vukan had thrown him. He was clenching his teeth and grasping his side, closing his eyes tightly. Anowaika crouched down beside him.

"Ow," was all Lylo could manage. After furrowing her brow at Vukan, in the way a disappointed mother might look at her misbehaving child, Anowaika pressed her hands to Lylo's abdomen. Instantly, he sucked in a breath and his entire face became contorted in pain.

"You've broken some ribs," she sighed. "Here, just stay completely still."

Lylo could do nothing but comply. Vukan watched, unremorseful, as Anowaika took a deep breath. She pressed her palms to his ribs, closed her eyes, then breathed out. The area of Lylo's scales beneath her hands began glowing a faint blue color, but only for a few moments. Then it faded, and he let out the breath he had been holding. With her kind smile once again brightening her features, Anowaika helped him stand.

"It's all healed," she explained, "but you have to be careful, okay? It has to heal naturally, too."

"I didn't know you could heal, Ano," Lylo smiled. She smiled back. They were too close for comfort, Vukan thought.

"My mother taught me."

Then, as if just remembering that he was there, Lylo looked over at Vukan. He was standing completely still, like a statue standing guard over some deep, dark secret hidden in that diamond necklace of his. Lylo did not say anything and, of course, Vukan did not say anything. They stared at each for a few moments, an icy stare, but a benevolent type of ice. Vukan knew he was forgiven. When one held secrets as obviously as Vukan did, a dark past, it was hard for one like Lylo to hold a grudge. That much was obvious. But Vukan would not apologize, could not apologize, could not even feel remorse.

In the name of his diamond necklace, the miner could never feel remorse.

* * *

**In case you haven't noticed so far there's been a character of every major race (Hylian, Sheikah, Gerudo, Goron, Zora). Just pointing that out. Iz kinda important. **

**Have a wonderful day, you're beautiful.**


	12. Dogs on Dotour

**YAY ACTION WOOOO COOL ZELDA STUFF THAT WE ALL LOVE**

**O(^_^)O**

**I like this chapter. It was hella fun to write. **

**I hope you enjoy it!**

**Also, out of curiosity, I'd love to know: **

**Favorite character so far? **

**(no worries there are more to come harf snarf)**

* * *

Chapter Eleven

Dogs on Dotour

"I win again."

"Every goddamn time!"

Cheeks flushed in frustration, nearly trembling, Damita tossed the cards in her hand into the air. Link sat across from her on the bed, a royal flush glistening in his fingers. He smiled, watched her brow scrunch in exasperation, as her incompetent cards fell like big droplets of rain around her and scattered themselves on the bed and floor. They had been sitting for hours, watching the sun set and playing their card games. Link enjoyed evenings like this, as much as he loved the atmosphere of Telma's Inn—being alone with a friend, relaxing with a cup of (mediocre) tea, playing card games, had a different freedom, a different satisfaction to it.

"Your poker face is too good," she huffed. Link's smile broadened as he shook his head.

"Yours is just terrible," he said. "Not to mention you're real unlucky."

"Whatever. Poker is stupid anyway."

Damita fell back on the bed, spreading her arms out and puffing at the ceiling. They had both worked hard that day. She in the forge, selling her weapons and taking requests. He out on the ranch, tending to the horses and the livestock and Fado's temper. When he had arrived home, she had already been in the apartment, on her feet going hard at the punching bag. It had been late. She had been hungry, she'd complained, so Link had cooked them dinner (Damita in a kitchen was never a good idea) and they had spent the night goofing off and playing poker. Link checked the nice, expensive watch Damita had bought him for his birthday, and saw that it was about 11:15. He would have to start heading toward Dotour soon.

Link began gathering the cards. He bent over the edge of the bed and grabbed the ones that had slipped to the floor, put them all in a pile together, and reached over Damita's body to place them on the nightstand. But he did not go back to his position. Instead, he crouched over her, pulled her shirt up just enough so that he could press his lips to her stomach—right below her belly button. She took a deep breath in. As if she hadn't been expecting it.

"Please fight with us," he whispered against her skin. His hands moved up beneath her shirt, his fingers dancing along the curves of her body.

"Don't start this again."

"Please." He kissed her higher, squeezed. Higher, higher, higher.

"No." Her voice was getting lower, her muscles relaxing.

"Please..."

He had tossed her shirt on the ground and his lips were below her chin now, his breathing warm, his chest against hers.

"Well I can't go anywhere without a shirt on."

"Come on, Damita."

"How many times do I have to tell you? I'm done with the fighting."

"We need you."

He actually didn't expect what came next. Instead of answering, Damita pushed him off her, with such strength that he tumbled off the bed and onto his back on the ground. The entire room trembled, and dust flew from the wooden planks.

"Don't pull that bullshit on me," she sighed. "You don't need me. You've been doing fine without me for years. Now go do your stupid fighty thing."

He sat up with a soft groan while she pulled her shirt back on, would not meet his eyes when he looked at her. Link had assumed the conversation would end this way, but that did not alleviate the disappointment. He missed having her fighting by his side. But Damita was not one to lose an argument easily, and she was as stubborn as they came—after five years, Link had learned that the hard way. So, without another word, he stood up, dusted himself off, made sure he had everything he needed in his bag. Slung his sword over his shoulder, cursed himself silently for forgetting to get a good shield (again), put his black glove on his left hand, and made his way toward the door.

"I'll be back by five," he said. She nodded, running her fingers through her silver tangles. Link put his hand on the door, but paused. A strange feeling of finality washed over him, a feeling of drama and intensity, and he suddenly didn't want to leave. He wanted to sit back on the bed and beat Damita at poker, fall into the sheets with her, argue about stupid things. It was a feeling he'd never had before. That bothered him. He frowned, his fingers still on the doorknob.

Then, he turned and walked back to the bed. Damita was watching him with a strange expression, as if she could feel the heaviness in the air, too. She closed her eyes when he put his hand behind her head, bent down, and pressed his lips to her forehead. The kiss only lasted for a single moment, but there were unspoken words of a thousand years carried within it. He tasted her sweat, the smoky, familiar aroma on her skin when he kissed her. Could feel his own lips against her skin—a strange sensation. His breath didn't seem like his anymore.

"Be careful," she said when he pulled away. He looked deep into her eyes, tried to find something inspiring there. Something that might help him pinpoint what they were both feeling. "Just...don't die. I need someone to cook for me."

All he saw was the strong, bold, rebellious sparkle that always made his stomach turn.

Link nodded, turned, stuck a piece of licorice between his lips, and left, headed straight for Dotour Street.

* * *

Link raised his hands from his pockets in silent apology when he reached the corner of Dotour Street, where the group was waiting for him. They were gathered there like a gang, leaning against the walls of the buildings and speaking in hushed tones. There they were, his companions, his partners, the people who had helped him survive the last seven years without losing his sanity.

"Fashionably late, as always." Anowaika, smiling with unusual luster at such an hour, was the first one to speak. She looked, as she always did, energetic and lively, her scales shimmering blue and green and everything in between. She stood beside Vukan, whose large frame was the only one not obscured by the shadows of the night. The dim lights lining the streets fell upon his grand frame in an intimidating way. Link smiled back at her, and then reached his fist out to Vukan. Silently, the Goron touched his knuckles to Link, and then their curt greeting came to an end.

"It's not a problem, old boy," Shad interrupted. "As the great philosopher Sturgeon once said, to be late is to have priorities, and to have priorities is to know oneself." He was standing on the edge of the curb, glancing over his shoulders with an obviously nervous expression on his sweaty features. In his hand, he held his notebook, flipping through the pages as if he were actually reading. All while wearing his ridiculously extravagant clothes and finding the heart to quote his favorite historical figure (and he knew many). "We can get to work now."

"Work," Raazi scoffed. When Link's eyes adjusted and he was able to make her out in the darkness, she looked like something from a painting. She was leaning against the nearest building, one leg bent and the other straight. The palms of her hands lay like butterflies against the wall, and her chin was tilted up just slightly. Sexiness and grace incarnate.

She had obviously come straight from work, with her long hair tied up into an intricate knot rather than let down. As usual, she wore a blatantly unreasonable amount of jewelry—five bracelets (on each hand), three different earrings (on each ear), the hoop pierced through her nose, and the same necklace she wore every day without fail. It was a collar necklace, with a golden chain and a sun attached at the end. And she wore make-up that made even a Hylian woman swoon (as racist as she might be), with dark eyeliner and blood red lipstick. She was still in her dancing clothes: a tight, glittering top embellished with golden sequins that left her stomach revealed, a red, full-length skirt embroidered intricately with beads, and a thin shawl she held at her arms. Which would be tied around her waist before long.

"You make it sound like orderly business," she continued, the r's rolling like pebbles from her tongue.

"If you want to survive, you have to treat it as such, Raazi," Shad sighed. As he continued looking through his notebook, she threw Link an amused expression, which he returned with a raise of his eyebrows. When she turned away, she mumbled something under her breath—something in Gerudic, he guessed.

"I'm assuming you guys have a plan?" Anowaika interjected. "The place is crawling with Iron Warriors. Most of Northern Castilia is."

"There is also a moat around his house," Shad added. "Not a big one, mind you, but big enough to keep most away."

Raazi smiled. "He has been expecting this for a while, it seems."

"Someone of his stature must take the necessary precautions, I'm afraid."

"Hylians are so strange."

There, in the dark and discrete corner, the five of them gathered into a circle. Their heads nearly touching, their shoulders brushing, their breath suddenly like a flame. Shad flipped open his notebook to a page where there was a very detailed sketch of Firen Viscensen's house. One that he would explain momentarily, for Link and the others to use for strategy. Shad, Link thought, had the most amusing habit of using the tip of his small dagger (which he kept as a bookmark) to point things out. Like a teacher.

"I've sketched out the entirety of his home," he began.

"Very impressive, little cat," Raazi interjected. Link grinned to himself. He could never really tell when she was being sarcastic or when she was being sincere.

"The moat is here, surrounding the manor. There is a drawbridge, but is raised right now, obviously. And behind the drawbridge is the gate leading into the manor, opened only at Commandant Viscensen's command."

"No other way across?" Link asked.

"I'm afraid not. But with the way drawbridges work, there should be a small entrance directly beneath it, in the moat, through which one could theoretically control the chains."

"A piece of cake," Anowaika smiled. "I can lower the bridge through the water."

"Well, there's more to it, I'm afraid," Shad began again. He was tapping the dagger anxiously against the page. "There are guards placed all over. More than you could handle at once. Here, here, here—" He began pointing out the locations: on either side of the drawbridge, in the highest towers of the manor, along the sides, and in the back garden. "—and here. They're inside as well, but once you're in, they will not be much of an issue."

"It's like Ano said," Link smiled after a few moments of thoughtful silence. "A piece of cake."

"You have a plan, then?" the Zora asked.

"Raazi, did you bring your vials?"

"Always." Without batting an eyelash, she lifted up her skirt. There around her left thigh was a belt, equipped with countless small vials—filled with liquids and powders of varying colors—and a sharp knife. They were the vials she used for her alchemy. And then, as if reading his mind (an uncanny ability of hers), she lifted a choice few.

"If one Iron Warrior hears or sees us, the rest will follow, and we are bread," she said.

"Toast, Raazi. We are toast," Shad interrupted.

"The solution, then, is to keep them from noticing us." She smiled and tinkered with her vials. The true contents of which only she knew.

"But if Shad's sketches are right, there's not a single spot we could go without being seen," Ano pointed out. Beside her, Vukan gave an affirming grumble.

"Yes," Raazi nodded. "I will be able to put them to sleep, but not from this distance."

"We would have to lower the bridge first—"

"—which the guards would definitely hear," Shad finished.

Link stared up over their head at Viscensen's manor, rising up like a forbidden fortress. The gears in his mind were shifting, turning, taking into account every detail, every weakness, every asset. His swordsmanship and his skills; when it came to strategy and battle, almost nobody could defeat Link. Raazi's alchemy and charm; she was one of the most intelligent scientists in Hyrule, and could steal a wallet straight from someone's front pocket with just her smile. Anowaika's healing and swimming; she was one of the rare Zoras with healing abilities, and if there was ever water, she could be counted on to traverse it. Vukan's strength and silence; he could lift an entire carriage without breaking a sweat, and his lack of speech was rather refreshing when Link was surrounded by talkers everywhere else. And, of course, Shad with his smarts and his knowledge; he always knew almost everything there was to know. All would come in handy, all would be necessary.

And, even with different backgrounds, pasts, personalities, and skills, they all had one thing in common:

The desire to bring down Queen Zelda.

But these assets would have to be used the right way. Everything would have to be timed perfectly for this to work.

"Shad, how long does it take for the drawbridge to lower completely?"

"About two minutes."

"If I were to jump in, is it shallow enough that someone would be able to pull me back up?"

"Yes, I believe so. Of course, you wouldn't be able to get back up on your own."

"Raazi, how close do you have to be for the alchemy to work?"

"Within ten feet, the goddesses willing."

_There are the two near the drawbridge and the two in the towers. If we get rid of those four, without attracting attention, we'll be able to get in. From the ground, Raazi wouldn't be able to reach the warriors in the towers. And unless we lower the bridge, she won't be able to reach the ones by the drawbridge, either..._

His pursed lips and pensive expression were slowly replaced by a smug grin and sparkling eyes.

"You have that look in your eyes," Anowaika giggled.

"Good Nayru, always such a frightening look," Shad bumbled.

"You have a plan, little wolf," Raazi said, tossing one of her vials in the air and then catching it. 'Little wolf,' she had once told him, was the nickname used for the brave children in the Gerudo Deserts.

Link's grip on the hilt of his sword tightened. It was going to be a fun night.

* * *

It was dark as he and Anowaika moved forward down the road, toward the manor, but he had grown accustomed to moving in darkness. He walked with his hands in his pockets, the licorice still in his lips, his back slightly slouched. He had never had the luxury of learning good posture like Ano (or perhaps he had in his youth, but couldn't remember). Glancing back over his shoulder, he saw Raazi, Shad, and Vukan still standing at the corner and watching him walk away. Rather than walk straight forward, they turned slightly right at the end of the street, far enough that the Iron Warriors on the other side of the moat could not see them. Farore knew how they even saw anything through those helmets.

"Are you sure this is going to work?" she whispered.

"No," he shrugged.

"There are a lot of risks involved. Maybe we should be more careful, find another way?"

He was silent for a few moments, and then he stopped. They had reached one of the few areas where there weren't any warriors, and Ano would be able to jump safely into the moat.

"I'm not really the careful type." Then, after spitting out his licorice, he gestured toward the moat. "You're up, babe."

She stared at him, a nervous pout in her lips and a crease in her forehead. But then, she nodded, and turned toward the moat. Link watched as she ran, swiftly and silently, before diving into the water without a sound. As if she had simply disappeared into thin air. He began walking toward the moat himself, and glanced over the edge. The water looked black and murky, nothing like water, really. But that was perfect. He needed the darkness. Link walked a few meters to the left, until he could see the Iron Warriors standing on either side of the drawbridge. They stood like statues, tall and foreboding. He smiled. They wouldn't be tall and foreboding for long.

Link reached into his pocket and grabbed a handful of small, coin-sized seeds. They were brown and shaped like ovals, with tiny openings at each end. He loved buying Deku seeds, because they were so inexpensive; people often underestimated how useful they could be.

And they were magnificent distractions.

Link began by taking his sword from his back and laying it, with the Deku seeds, on the ground at his feet. Then he stepped out his boots, lifted his shirt over his head, pulled his pants down, let his hair down. Until he had nothing left but his underpants. He organized his belongings and placed them on the very edge of the moat, in a patch of shadow that he found particularly dark for a reason that he couldn't discern. Maybe he was just subconsciously trying to justify his own strange habits.

Once that was done, he glared down at the water once more and grabbed his Deku seeds. He moved them between his fingers for a few moments, tried to find ripples in the water, but saw only blackness. Then he glanced back around the corner and saw the Iron Warriors standing there, oblivious to the fact that at that point in time, Anowaika was probably right beneath them. Then he glanced over his shoulder and could just barely make out the silhouettes of his comrades, waiting for their moment to strike. All in due time, he smiled to himself. All in due time. Finally, Link decided, he was ready to set the plan in motion.

He tossed three of the Deku seeds across the moat, saw them flash and heard them burst, and then jumped into the moat.

* * *

Beneath the water—not as dark underneath as above—Anowaika searched the walls of the moat. After a few moments of floating, pushing herself through the water like a hot knife through butter, she found what she was looking for. There in the wall was a small hole, not small enough for any person of any species to fit through. She treaded closer to it, until she could put her hands on either side and peek inside. Deep within, she saw gears. Standing still. Just as Shad had predicted.

_They must control the drawbridge._

Then, with more perfect timing than she could have asked for, she heard bursting sounds coming from above the surface and a splash. Link's signal. She threw a nervous glance behind her, wondering if everyone else was ready for this—for this was the most difficult part of the plan.

_I hope you're ready up there._

Anowaika floated backward until she had a perfect view of the gears within the hole, lifted her arms and made sure her angle was correct. And then, holding her breath, she pushed with her hands until the flow of water changed. Until she pushed the current through the hole...until the gears began moving, and the drawbridge began to lower.

* * *

When Raazi saw the top of the drawbridge lowering (though she was too far to hear anything), she and Vukan were already prepared. This was, in fact, the most dangerous, the most risky, the most important part of the plan. If they messed this up, Link and Anowaika would surely be caught. They would surely be taken to the castle, and Din knows what would happen to them there. But Raazi smiled to herself anyway.

Of course they wouldn't mess this up. She could feel the spirits of the goddesses on their side.

She and Vukan looked at each other, shared a silent understanding. She turned over her bronzed shoulders and gave Shad a reassuring wink when she saw the terrified expression on his face, and began sprinting forward. Vukan walked right beside her, his strides long and dramatic enough to keep up with her graceful running. As they got closer and closer to the moat, she could see that the Iron Warriors on either side of the drawbridge had disappeared, probably off to discover what those strange sounds and bursts of light had been. What was that strange noise? they must have been thinking. And what is that flashing over there? And did I hear a splash?

Raazi grinned to herself and felt the adrenaline begin to pump through her veins. A calm, understanding kind of adrenaline, the type that made her limbs move more smoothly with the knowledge that she was about to do something fantastic.

And then, she and Vukan did do something fantastic.

She had her vials ready in her hands. When they reached the edge of the moat, she knew that the Iron Warriors at the towers were already stirring—perhaps could already see them. But that was okay. This would only take a moment. They were finally there, right beneath the drawbridge as it lowered. Slowly, slowly, slowly. Just as Anowaika had been instructed.

"Are you ready, darling giant?" Raazi whispered to her Goron companion. He nodded, and then crouched. In a matter of moments, he had transformed from a large, earth-shattering Goron into a perfectly spherical ball. As if he had never been there to begin with. Excitement pulsing through her every limb, Raazi hopped atop his back and popped the corks from her vials. She watched the drawbridge...saw it lowering...

"Now, darling giant, now."

Suddenly, she was rushing through the air, catapulted by his strength as he emerged from his ball. Of course, Raazi was prepared. Short strands of her dark red hair flowed around her eyes from the speed of her ascension, her skirt billowed, but she paid them no heed. While muttering prayers and incantations for the goddesses under her breath, she reached one hand up (the one not carrying the vials) and grabbed the top of the drawbridge as it lowered. Then, with that one arm, she pulled herself up until she was standing, on both feet, on the top of the lowering drawbridge. The drawbridge was still lowering, and when she stood up, she realized that she was, in fact, within ten feet of the Iron Warriors in the towers.

Which meant that they could see her.

...Not that it mattered much.

Raazi jumped into the air, off the drawbridge and straight toward the towers. As she propelled herself, felt herself flying through the air once again, she scattered the contents of her vials, both at once. A flurry of green and gold powder filled the air, covered everything. She could not see even two inches in front of her. But she didn't need to see. She could sense everything then. She could feel the Iron Warriors' disorientation, their frantic gazes. Could truly, truly feel their worry. Their panic.

She loved it.

Still flying through the air, Raazi took a deep breath, held it in, and then let it out in a flurry as strong as she could muster. The powder flew forward, propelled by her breath and by the graceful movements of her fingers. Then, she landed, crouched on her feet, on the other side of the moat. And she knew from the lack of voices that she had been successful. The Iron Warriors were asleep.

The most amazing part was that she had done all that—from the moat to the drawbridge to the towers—within ten seconds.

Not even enough time for the Iron Warriors to so much as open their mouths.

Now all she had to do was wait for the other two to return. And then they, too, would fall into a deep slumber. And by that time, the drawbridge would be lowered, Ano will have helped Link from the moat, and they would be able to successfully enter Firen Viscensen's manor.

By the time the other two warriors had returned (and been accordingly incapacitated), the drawbridge was completely lowered. Vukan slowly, calmly, deliberately walked across and stood beside Raazi. She looked up at him, grinning, and touched his arm just so. A soft thank you, a delicate good work. A few minutes later Anowaika and a soaked-to-the-bone Link joined them, cheeks flushed and breathing just noticeably heavier.

"Well, I'm not sure how, but it worked," Ano murmured. Raazi looked at Link. There was no hint of pride on his face, no hints of a smile on his lips, not even a sparkle of satisfaction in his eyes. He was already thinking of what was next, she knew; already preparing for the final stage. His gaze was fixed on the grand gates in front of them, leading into the gardens of the manor.

"The gates are locked," Raazi said. Though she knew that he knew. She wanted to be the one to say it. Link finally turned away from the gates and looked at his comrades. Vukan with his mountainous, expressionless presence—Anowaika with her jittery nervousness—and herself, with her hips cocked and her face blank.

"Vukan can open them. Then he and Ano will keep watch out here," Link began.

"Vukan and I want to come," Ano argued.

"He's too big and noticeable. No. Then Raazi and I will head in, do it, and get out."

She loved the sudden intensity in his face. He, like her, understood what it meant to be perpetually walking on eggshells.

Raazi and Link were very similar in many ways.

And, of course, very different in many more ways.

Then, with nothing but brute strength, Vukan wrenched open the gates.


	13. Wolfos

**Short and sweet. (confusing?)**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Twelve

Wolfos

The large, muscular man (well-built even outside his armor) in a tight cloak stood with his back facing the door, hands clasped together, looking out the window. He was watching the darkness, the stillness of his back gardens. It was a cloudy night, and so he could not even discern the silhouettes of the trees there—trees that he himself had planted. After all, that was the only way to know, in this black night, that they were really there. He thought about what it would be like if his life were dark and still, too. Hidden from the light by clouds floating up there in an empty sky.

He wondered.

The door opened behind him, almost at the exact moment he had predicted. Then it closed. Then there was silence, and the man knew he would have to be the one to speak first.

"I would welcome you," he said, "but I suppose you already feel rather unwelcome."

The one who had entered the room was silent, but the man could just barely hear a soft, rapid heartbeat. It made his lips twitch in anticipation.

"I'm actually surprised you came into my chambers alone. I assume your Gerudo friend is in the hall?"

"You knew we were coming, then." The young man's voice was low—not deep, exactly—and his speech, his words, effortless. It must have taken him quite a while to perfect such an art.

"Of course I did."

"And you know who I am."

The man finally turned to face his adversary. A young, strong, alert and beautiful young man, with disheveled hair and rippling muscles and devastatingly blue, devastatingly feral eyes. They struck one's very core with a single glance. Intimidating in a slender, confident way rather than an overbearing one. A fetching, silent, accidentally charming young man. Not exactly what he had been expecting.

"I know who you are, yes," Firen Viscensen nodded. "And I've known for a while now."

"Then why haven't you done anything about me?" the boy asked. For he was, in fact, still a boy. "Letting me run around cutting heads off doesn't seem like the Royal Guard's wisest decision."

"A reasonable observation." The commandant began walking forward, intrigued when the intruder didn't even flinch. "But I'm sure you already know the answer."

"The queen doesn't care much for clean records or official papers. She does what she wants. So I have to admit, I'm confused." Though he did not look at all confused. In fact, Firen could have sworn he saw a smile on his lips. Smug, prepared.

"Have you ever seen a wolfos, Link?"

"No."

"They are terrifying creatures, but they are not very large. And even more terrifying, they live underground. Beneath the surface." Firen was drawing closer, but the young man didn't even reach for his sword. "They come up when their prey walks blindly overhead. Rip them to shreds, eat them alive. All in a deafening silence."

Firen was right in front of him now, and he realized that the boy was surprisingly short. His presence and the intensity of his features made one automatically believe, from a first glance, that he was at least six feet tall. But he couldn't have been taller than 5'7". While Firen himself was 6'4".

"If one is skilled enough, he can kill a wolfos. Cut its head off, stab it through the heart, club it to death, what have you," he continued. "But we forget that they live beneath the surface. There is an entire world there, an entire way of life to which we are completely blind. And, in fact, wolfos do not fight alone. As many once believed."

"What happens when you kill a wolfos?" Link asked. Firen brought his face closer, until they were merely inches away.

"Their underground world begins to stir," he murmured. He let his breath fall down onto Link's forehead. He wanted to see him sweat. "And suddenly, by killing one single wolfos, you have awakened the pack. You have forced them into a revolt, into a massacre, into something that you cannot control. And you—you and everyone you love—are devoured by these creatures arising from their underground worlds."

Link's lips turned into a crooked smile. One side higher than the other, lips pursed and puckered, eyes glistening.

"I wonder why we're at the top of the food chain, then," he said. "They seem like they know what they're doing."

"A simple answer, Link."

Then, Firen Viscensen took a step back, dropped the cloak from his shoulders, and pulled on the skin of his neck. And suddenly Firen Viscensen was no longer there.

The woman from the alley had replaced him, with her gaunt skin and haunting beauty and yellow hair. She (though she was actually a he) watched as Link sucked in a breath, straightened up, and finally—finally—reached for his sword.

"You can't be at the top when you're underground."

Sheik decided that he wasn't going to take off his second disguise.

_It's not fun if he knows what my real face looks like, is it?_

Sheik, in his perfect (second) disguise, leaped forward just as Link drew his sword. It was a nice one, Sheik had to admit. One that he felt he had somehow seen before, forged with experienced hands and scratched in the most beautiful of ways. And he could notice all of these details because his eyes did not leave that blade. He (she? He wasn't even sure how to refer to himself anymore) continued stepping forward, dodging the swings of the sword, while Link continued stepping backward. His face remained practically expressionless, though Sheik could imagine that in a better situation, he'd be smiling. A smug smile, too.

_Pretty good,_ Sheik thought. _He'd definitely get the best of any one with normal senses._

Sheik ducked, slipped to the side, could see the sword's movements as if they were in slow motion. And he kept moving forward. Link was nimble, too. He swung his sword horizontally, and while Sheik arched backward to avoid the slice, Link swiftly twisted his sword and spun out of the way of Sheik's incoming punch. Surely the most interesting battle he'd had in months—years, maybe. Link swung vertically then, aiming for the very center of Sheik's scalp. Without flinching, Sheik hopped to the side, but could not disarm him. For within seconds, he had leaped away and was back in his fighting stance. A vase that had been sitting on the table fell and shattered. A portrait of Firen Viscensen's wife had fallen to the ground. Sheik decided it was time to end this.

_But, unfortunately for him, I don't have normal senses. _

And before Link could truly react, Sheik brought his fingers directly against the side of his neck. In a movement that was so swift, so rapid, so predictable that it was unpredictable. It was one of the many pressure points he knew of in the human, Sheikah, and Gerudo bodies.

Without a sound, Link crumpled to the ground, his sword falling beside him. Sheik stood over him, feeling the rush of battle fade from his limbs. Link was completely still, temporarily paralyzed by Sheik's jab. He wouldn't be awake for another five hours. But the Gerudo girl would probably come into the room within the next two minutes, curious about why Firen Viscensen's assassination was taking too long. But two minutes gave Sheik plenty of time.

He knelt down to Link's side and touched his cheek. The look of his face, the rugged handsomeness, the smooth lines and invisible scars, were intriguing. A fascinating face, with a fascinating story to tell. Not that it mattered much to Sheik.

_I already know the whole story, Link._

With about a minute and a half left, Sheik hoisted the unconscious Link onto his back. Just about as heavy as he had been expecting, though he wasn't exactly a stocky man. He had the muscles, certainly, but Sheik had them, too. They were just a bit less obvious. He moved toward the window in the back—being sure to pack up his disguise, as well. Leading out from Firen's back gardens was a nice shortcut to the castle and, at that point, his only escape route.

But before hopping out, he paused, turned his cheek so that his mouth brushed Link's ear, and said, "Wolfos should just stay underground."

Although somewhere inside, Sheik felt a pang of sadness. A pang of remorse...a pang of guilt. He just wasn't really sure what to do with it.


	14. Girl with Ribbons

**Short and sweeeeeeet :)**

**(i like writing about dreams and flashbacks if you didn't know)**

* * *

Chapter Thirteen

Girl with Ribbons

In his unconsciousness, the boy with no memory of the first fifteen years of his life had a dream. It was a dream he had had before. In fact, he'd had it multiple times. After long, stressful days when he felt the weight of not knowing himself, of not knowing his own history, he would fall asleep and dream this dream. And he would sweat and shake and finally scream until the silver-haired smith beside him grabbed him and whispered in his ear to calm him down. It felt like a memory somehow. A lost treasure within the labyrinth of his mind that only showed itself when he was feeling his very worst.

Nothing ever really happened in the dream. It was not a sequence of events, or even one single event. It was an image. Playing over and over again in his mind.

He saw the dream through his own eyes—at least, they felt like his own eyes. But they could have been someone else's. Someone else entirely, who had taken him into their body to show this simple, elegant, haunting image of which he had become so very frightened. He (or whomever it was) sat in a bed of grass, surrounded by tall plants that whistled in a soft breeze and sparkling in the bright, golden sun. He looked from side to side, but could see nothing past the plants. They were much taller than he was. When he reached his hand out to brush them, to feel his fingers against them, they blew just out of reach. He could only feel the grass beneath him, flattened and moist. It was a nice atmosphere, but he felt nothing. No warmth, no cold, no happiness, no sadness. Everything simply was, and he was sitting there accepting that he, himself, simply was.

He glanced up at the sky, but could hardly saw anything. He had to squint until the very blueness was practically invisible. So he looked back down, straight ahead. Then he realized that it was not silent. That, in fact, he couldn't even hear the breeze, because there was another sound drowning it out. A tender, loving hum. Floating through his ears, making his body sway. A beautiful melody that triggered within him an emotion that he couldn't pinpoint. A feeling that he could have sworn he had had before, back when memories and histories meant nothing. He closed his eyes and listened to the hum. To that melody, a distant friend coming back to whisper in his ear an endearing, "Hello."

When he opened his eyes to greet that friend, he saw something there in the enclave. There with him, surrounded by those plants and dappled by that sun. The image, simple, elegant, nothing truly special but so crippling all at once. It was a silhouette of someone. Standing across from him, still at first. He tried to look at the silhouette's face, to see who this person was, but saw only the blackness of the silhouette. Of the darkness cast by the sun's rays on this person's back. But he could tell it was a young girl. He could tell from the dress, flowing out from her not-yet-fully-curved waist, and from the shape of her shoulders. He wanted to know what color the dress was, but he couldn't see that, either. And when he tried to stand up, to move closer, he found himself frozen. Left to stare at this figure, as still as a statue in front of him. He knew the moment he saw her that the humming was coming from her indistinguishable lips. He wished he could see her humming it. He couldn't even tell if she was looking at him—perhaps straight above his head, or perhaps down at the ground upon which she stood. Like an angel.

Slowly, the silhouette began to sway. Back and forth, back and forth, to match the soft sway of the melody she hummed. And then she spun around, and the hem of her dress spun with her against the grass. When she did that, gracefully and effortlessly, he saw a burst of color. Bright, shimmering, rippling red ribbons. They sat in the invisible folds of her hair (what color was her hair?) and when she spun, they pushed free and let the wind ripple them. He watched them with such concentration, afraid that if he so much as blinked, the color, the silhouette, every emotion he felt would simply disappear. It was something to hold onto, to let his mind anchor itself in this moment.

Finally, as if the ribbons had been a signal, he was able to stand. His bones, his limbs, his very soul felt heavy, but he stood regardless. He took a step closer, felt the earth tremble beneath his feet. But the humming, even though he was closer, became softer. And the girl, it seemed, was growing farther. He wasn't able to see the red ribbons as well. He took another step. And then another. And then another. With each step, each movement, each blink of his eyelashes, she grew more and more distant. He reached his hand out desperately, tried to grab onto one of those ribbons. He strained to hear the humming, for its disappearance was going to drive him mad. It seemed, as he groped with his fingers for her, that she was only inches from his reach. He opened his mouth to scream for her, to tell her to stop spinning and come back—for he wanted to feel her ribbons.

But she would not. Further and further away, this dark figure, completely black but for the red ribbons, disappeared. Left him hollow, teary, completely and utterly and soul-crushingly hollow from the melody she hummed and the mysterious ribbons she wore.

The worst of all was that whenever Link woke up from this dream (this image), he could never remember the melody.

Only that her ribbons were red.


	15. Knuckles, Swords

Chapter Fourteen

Knuckles, Swords

Shad paced, notebook in hand. Raazi leaned against the wall, drinking her tea. Anowaika sat in a wooden chair, tapping her webbed feet on the ground. Vukan stood behind her, doing nothing and saying nothing.

All while she, Damita, sat on her bed, hugging her knees and unsure of how to react.

They had all come to her instantly, the moment they realized that Shad had been right. That it had been a trap. That Link, in his skill and mastery and artistry of fighting, had somehow been captured. By someone or something that must have been simply terrifying. Shad, Raazi, Anowaika, and Vukan had come banging on her door (at 3 AM) to say, They've taken him.

"I should have gone inside with him," Raazi murmured. But she was absurdly calm, sipping that mysterious tea that, Damita figured, must have come from her cabinets. Odd, she mused, how she was observing the most mundane things at such a time.

"It has nothing to do with you," she replied. Her voice, in comparison to Raazi's, was soft and her words slurred. "Whoever took him knew you were there, I'm sure of it. He or she just didn't care."

"Nobody is to blame!" Ano blurted. As if trying to convince herself.

"The only thing we can do now is bring him back home," Raazi added. There followed an agreeing silence, until Raazi's quiet, spiritual incantations, spoken under her breath, flitted through the air. Damita hugged herself more tightly. It still hadn't truly sunk in, hadn't dawned on her. The situation felt surreal, an otherworldly experience. She could feel his lips on her forehead as if he had kissed her only moments ago. And she felt the raw, devastating emotions building up inside her, a volcano threatening to erupt but not quite ready yet. At that point, she was defiant even to herself.

"But, well..." Shad began, standing still. But as his voice trailed off, he continued pacing. There was an elephant in the room that everyone could see. Damita knew what Shad was going to say, because she knew where Link had been taken. She dreaded the conversation to come for fear that the volcano would erupt—with a vengeance.

Because she had, in fact, told him to be careful.

_That asshole. Who does he think he is, anyway?_

"It is a difficult situation," Raazi said. She was not one for awkward silences, and certainly not one for sitting and waiting. "But we must do something."

"Whatever we do'll turn out badly. Zelda may be heartless, but she's not stupid," Damita sighed. She buried her face against her thighs and stared at the darkness for a little bit. Why had he been so stupid? Why hadn't he just stayed? They had both felt it, after all. The heaviness in the room when he'd left.

_I should've known better, too._

"If he is, in fact, in the castle," Shad said, "then Damita's right. Breaking him out will be nearly impossible. And furthermore, if we do break him out, we will all most likely become fugitives."

"I understand that," Raazi replied. She stepped forward and placed her cup on the nightstand, her bracelets banging against each other. "But if we do not break him out, he will die a terrible death."

Damita wished more than anything that she had told Link not to go. That she had recognized that, sleeping alone that night (which she had done multiple times), she had felt especially cold. Part of the volcano erupted then—just a bit—and Damita grabbed a pillow on the bed, gritted her teeth, and threw it toward the bedroom door with as much energy as she could muster. Everyone else just watched her silently.

_Tomorrow is going to be a bad day. I know it._

"So what now?" Anowaika said. Her voice was soft, questioning, delicate. Like simply asking the question frightened her a little bit. "Do we go in and get him, living the rest of our lives as fugitives, or do we just sit here?"

The silence was petrifying. Stupefying. It made Damita wish she could just rip her hair out. Huge, tangled clumps of silver hair, right from her scalp. She was getting restless, so while the others looked at each other for hints of answers to questions screaming at them, she stood up and walked to the corner of the room—the one with the punching bag. She was wearing nothing but her undergarments. When she finally got there, she lifted her fists. And then she let them fly. She didn't even bother putting on her hand wraps. She just punched, and punched, and punched, until her knuckles were bloody and the punching bag was red. Just as she had so many times before when her life had crumbled a bit. Then, tears building dangerously in her eyes, she grabbed the bag with both hands and pressed her forehead against it. She could feel their eyes on her.

"We can't just sit here," she finally said. "We have to go get him."

"Damita is right, of course," Raazi added.

"Well, we can't all go get him," Shad said. His voice was cracking, and even though Damita wasn't looking at him, she could feel his jitters. Feel his eyes flitting across the room as if waiting for a monster to burst from the wood.

"Vukan obviously can't. He's too noticeable," Anowaika said. Vukan was still, silent, but his eyes flashed.

"And Farore knows I can't," Shad scoffed. "A deaf man would be able to hear me."

"I will go." Raazi took a few steps forward, and then stopped once more where she was. As if stopped by her own thoughts, the sound of her own words flowing from her mouth.

"But you can't go alone, my dear."

"I can go," Ano offered. Damita finally turned around, leaned her back against the wall. Anowaika had stood from her chair, ready to assume the responsibility of her suggestion. Vukan lifted his huge arm and put it on her shoulder, and softly, subtly, shook his head. It was a plea. Nobody, not even Link, knew why Vukan had always been so protective of her. But, of course, at that point, it was all the same to Damita. Her head was spinning, her thoughts blurring, everything disappearing behind the image of her bloodied knuckles.

"Without the water, though, there isn't much you can do," Shad sighed. Anowaika tensed, furrowed her brow.

"There's a moat, isn't there?"

"Yes. But even if you were to lower the drawbridge, as you did tonight...you would be caught in moments. Whoever goes will have to find another way in, I'm afraid."

"But even so—"

"We are a team. We work together with our various skills," he explained. "I'm afraid that with only the two of you, your skills would not be terribly useful to Raazi."

She opened her mouth, a response sitting on her tongue, but she almost immediately bit it back. And as soon as she did, Damita knew what was coming. And, surprisingly, she wasn't ready for it. She closed her eyes and began shaking her head softly. Like the words had already been spoken and she was trying to shake them away. And she felt, like chains around her wrists, all their eyes turn to her.

"Damita—"

"Don't, Shad,' she hissed. "Just don't."

"Please. Hear us out." Everything was heavy. She could hardly breathe. But she forced her eyes to open and her mouth to close. Shad was staring at her much too intensely for her liking. It almost made her wince. "With you and Raazi working together, sneaking into the castle would be possible."

She wanted to say no so desperately. To whip him with her razor-sharp tongue, lash out with her rejection. Because she had vowed to herself, promised herself, made a sacred (whatever that meant) oath, that she would never fight again. That she would never raise another sword to anything...

But she couldn't do it. Not when she closed her eyes and pictured Link—her best friend, her partner, her anchor—chained in the dungeons of Zelda's cryptic castle.

_Am I about to say yes? _

_ Am I really going to fight?_

"Please, Damita." She hadn't noticed, but Raazi had steadily been walking toward her and was now directly in front of her. Her golden eyes sparkled, her red lips pouted, and she put her hands on Damita's bare shoulders. When she spoke, her voice was at a whisper. "He needs you right now."

"Okay." The words like acid on her tongue. "Okay, I'll go with you."

"Well then," Shad sighed. The air in the room had become significantly more tense. "I suppose we should begin planning then. Shall we?"

* * *

**?**


	16. Seven-Year Tear

**Wowwie wowwie more perspective changes weeeee**

* * *

Chapter Fifteen

Seven-Year Tear

_I went into a rage when they told me he'd left—disappeared in the middle of the night without so much as a trace. They told me as soon as I'd woken up, groggy, slowly coming to the realization that I was fifteen years old. _

_ "Princess," they said to me, "we have bad news." _

_ And then they told me that he was gone._

_ I left you, I left you, I left you. _

_ Tears streaming down my cheeks, I threw the pillows first. And then I threw the vases, relished in hearing them crash against the floor. I was angrier than I had ever been before and angrier than I have ever been since. A crushing anger, such betrayal that I felt absolutely worthless. I screamed at the sky, ran through the halls of the castle barefoot until my toes bled._

_ He left me, he left me, he left me._

_ We were going to take on the world together, TOGETHER. _

_ After the vases, I ran through the library and pushed the shelves down to watch the books fly. I hated the sight of them, though they used to bring me such happiness. Whenever someone tried to approach me, I screamed, "Stay away from me."_

_ Leave me alone, let me be, stay away._

_ I promised. But you promised, too. _

_ I want to die._

_ I did not eat for days, did not sleep for weeks. _

_ He has betrayed me, I thought. He has broken his promise. He has left me all alone. _

_ And I have never been the same._

* * *

The queen had taken time to prepare herself. She had sat in front of the mirror, but had refused the help of any one else, and had painted her face until her lips were blood-red, the outline of her grey eyes black and her eyelashes long, her cheeks paler than the moonlight, her eyelids nearly black. She had twisted her hair back, pinned it, so that it fell over her shoulder like a deep black waterfall of waves. Atop her head she had put her silver tiara, matching her steely eyes so perfectly. She was wearing a navy dress that was low cut to show her white corset, and she put long, thin necklaces over her head. When she stood up, she felt the power coursing through her veins. But, for dramatic effect, she put the white gloves over her fingers anyway.

It was the middle of the night again. She wasn't entirely sure why, but she enjoyed visiting her prisoners at night. She felt there was more hopelessness in the air when there was darkness—it was why she tended to dress so darkly. And, more importantly, there were so few people around to interact when it was the middle of the night. For it was now, in the nighttime, that the people took refuge in their beds, rested their minds with the promise of dreams.

Queen Zelda had not truly slept for seven years, so it seemed unimaginably useless for her to take refuge in her bed.

_Refuge from what, anyway?_

She stepped out into the hallway and let the door slam behind her. Perhaps, in the other room, Karis was tossing and turning in bed as he always did, with that feverish look in his eyes and the sweat pouring down his gaunt cheeks. Struggling to breathe. Wondering what it was his beautiful fiancée was doing at such an hour. She smiled to herself and walked down the hall, on the familiar path to the dungeon. Before retiring, after supper, she had ordered that the guards not bother with the dungeon that night. She didn't want them there, not now. The halls were as deserted as they could be, and the only company she had were her shadows. The only company she truly wanted. They walked alongside her like old friends, caressing her heart and holding her icy, gloved hand.

When the queen turned to walk down the staircase, twirling down into the dungeon, she saw something out of the corner of her eye. There, leaning against the wall, was a familiar silhouette. Tall and slender, one leg pressed against the wall, arms crossed. She turned her head until she was facing him, tilted her head slightly upward because she liked looking at him like that. Almost as much as he liked sulking in the shadows. It seemed that he was always there in the shadows, everywhere she turned, everywhere—and nowhere—she looked. There he was. And she loved it.

"Heading down already, Your Highness?" he said. His voice was low, amused, cynical. "You definitely don't waste time."

"And neither do you," she smiled. "Good work."

For a moment, the shadows rippled, and she saw his face in the light. Her most trusted (only trusted) warrior, her secret weapon. Without a doubt, the strongest warrior in all of Hyrule. Could potentially bring down an entire army single-handedly. Her own personal master of disguise, better than any spy or gangster or thug that the underground peasants could spit up.

Sheik the Loyal was his title.

_Much too loyal for his own good. _

"It is funny, isn't it? Finding someone who enjoys the shadows as much as you do," she mused. She was still holding up her dress, ready to begin her trek down the stairs at any moment.

"Funny's not the word I would use."

"Yes, your vocabulary seems much too advanced for that."

There was a silence, and he leaned his head back against the wall. She could just barely see the blonde braid fall over his shoulder. His clothing so tight he could have been naked.

"He is down there, I assume?" she continued.

"You assume correctly, Your Highness."

"No offense to you, of course, but I did think it would be more difficult."

"Eh, we all face disappointments in life."

She chuckled. He was right, after all.

"I am going down to see him."

"He won't be up for another three hours," Sheik said, "and it'll take another two hours for him to be actually conscious."

"I just want to see him."

"Suit yourself, Your Highness."

The most interesting thing about him was that he was stupid enough to speak to her as he might an equal. And, perhaps more interesting than that, was the fact that Zelda let him. She had never once punished him, never once admonished him, for speaking to her like that. Perhaps one day she would. But not for now. He wouldn't be a fun target, she decided.

"Would you like me to come down with you?"

"No. Go back to your shadows," she replied. She had grown bored of him. There was another silence. Then, the silhouette bowed its head and, as if he had never been there, he was gone.

Zelda walked down the stairs. It was completely silent but for the click of her heels against the dank cobblestone. She loved that sound. It gave her some kind of authority, she felt. A power nobody else understood, but everybody else feared. The queen strolled past the unguarded cells that held the prisoners; these were the ones, she had decided, who deserved to be tortured and rot in solitude. Until they begged her, on their bloody knees, for the sweet release of death. But the queen was not one to let them die painlessly.

She walked, staring straight ahead. Behind her she left a trail of agonized moans, hoarse pleas for mercy. Hands reaching through the bars like sacrifices, fingers clawing at her stained with desperation. And she continued walking, her skin and blood warm with anticipation. Seven years—long, sleepless, dark years—she had waited for this moment. She was aware of the faintest hope of closure, of some form of satisfaction, deep within her. But she was not fooling herself. Closure was not what she truly wanted from him. Not anymore.

She simply needed him to finish the puzzle.

Finally, she reached her destination. A dark cell with rusted bars, filled with deathly silence. She had the key hidden in her dress, and pulled it out. The sound it made when the door creaked open sent tingles up and down her erect spine. She watched it swing open slowly, as if invisible hands were pushing against its superhuman strength. It was almost too dark inside to see, for this was a cell without any windows. The slim strips of moonlight did not even fall upon it. There was nothing but darkness. She stepped inside, and after a few moments, her eyes adjusted. She saw the outlines of the stones jutting from the walls and the floor, the bloodstains left upon them.

And then, she saw him.

He sat against the back wall of the cell, knees bent and head leaning to one shoulder in his unconsciousness. He was hardly breathing. But she knew he was alive. For she had ordered Sheik to bring him alive. And anything she said to Sheik was done, and done exactly the way she wanted.

She felt something strange when she saw him. Not exactly unexpected, but strange nonetheless. Memories of a life she had lived before, of the life she had been living, thoughts of the life she was destined to live, began building up inside her chest. Higher and higher, until she was ready to burst. She couldn't even see the features of his face, and yet she knew it was him. She could tell just by the air around him. Familiar, a mixture of sweet and terribly, disgustingly bitter.

She couldn't decided if she wanted more to strangle him, then and there, or to wrap her arms around him until the sweet emotions disappeared and she was ready to kill again.

Queen Zelda realized she was holding her breath only when she released it and heard her own exasperation. But she held it back. Even if there was nobody around, even if she was alone, she couldn't betray herself. It was one thing she simply could not do. So, with her composure returned and her breathing normal once more, she moved toward that crumpled figure. Closer, until she was standing directly above him. The darkness was so great that the fact her shadow fell upon him was completely irrelevant. She stood there for a few moments, trying to decide whether to kneel or to simply stand and watch.

Of course, she knelt. Forgot about the fabric of the dress, the dirt on the ground, and knelt in front of him. Being this close, a hair's breadth away, she sensed the threat of emotion returning. She pushed them back anxiously, with her sharp, raised eyebrows and white gloves. _Not now, not now._

His hair, wavy and disheveled and grown down to his shoulders, fell over his face so that she couldn't see any details. Faintly, she saw his chest rising and falling with his delicate breaths. She saw the skin of his neck, his wrists, his hands, and felt the cold rush of nostalgia—memory—nightmares. Suddenly, she could only remember screaming and crying and throwing vases when she believed she would never touch that skin (feel that skin) again. And yet here it was. Right in front of her. Glistening, perhaps not as pure as she remembered.

Zelda didn't realize it, but she had forgotten why she had had him brought here. If only for a moment. And for that moment, she wanted nothing more than to see his face and convince herself that her nightmares, her dreams, had come back into her reality.

Moving almost robotically, the queen (is that what she was?) removed the glove of her right hand and let it fall to the ground. She reached her bare fingers up, painted black, to the strands of hair that fell like curtains across his face. Gently, delicately, nervously, she brushed it away. It felt rough, coarse on the backs of her fingers, not as soft as she remembered. She felt that if she let it touch her too long, it would begin to scratch her. But she pushed it back, further and further, until she could see the features of his face with heart-stopping clarity.

His profile was like an image straight from a dream, whipped from the recesses of her mind and planted like torture right in front of her. Eyes closed, but eyelids fluttering ever so slightly, just so she could see his eyelashes brushing his cheeks like butterflies on a flower. Nose straight and strong, powerful yet endearing lips parted just so. Just enough to let the breath out. As beautiful—perhaps more beautiful—as she remembered.

Then again, it had been seven years. He was no longer a child.

Zelda let her thumb stroke the top of his cheek, just below his eyes. His skin was cold, refreshing against her warm fingers. She stroked, back and forth, until she had nearly memorized the physical feeling of it. But it wasn't enough. Not nearly enough. She brought her face closer and moved her thumb to his eyelids, felt them shiver. Then, finally, she put her hands beneath his strong, angular chin and moved his head until he was facing her fully. Her face was close now, the tip of her nose brushing his, her breath falling against him. His so faint she hardly felt a thing. She outlined his lips with her index finger and watched them unflinchingly.

"I suppose it's my turn now," she murmured. Then, as she remembered him doing so long ago, she leaned forward until their lips touched. And she cursed herself for letting the single tear slip from her open eye. For she hadn't cried once in seven years, not since she had let everything flow out of her. But with that tear, streaming down her powdered cheek, the pain she had learned to ignore subsided again. She had let herself slip, she had let herself feel every emotion. The sadness, the longing, the desire and the pain and the complete sorrow. Now, it was time to let them go again, to push them away.

Energy renewed, eyes flashing, breathing normal, Queen Zelda kept her hand on his cheek and leaned forward until her lips were at his ear.

"I am going to destroy you, my love," she whispered with a smile. "Just as you destroyed me."

He did not react to her. Not even a little bit.


	17. He Who Doesn't Believe in Fate

Chapter Sixteen

He Who Doesn't Believe in Fate

His lips were tingling when he woke up.

It was the first thing of which he was truly aware. He didn't know where he was, when it was, what was around him. He didn't even remember his name for a few minutes. Once he did, he became scared that it had happened again—that he'd lost his memory to some hungry oblivion and would have to start from the beginning. All over. But then, his visions of the night before rushed back to him. Swimming in the moat, sneaking through the winding halls of Firen Viscensen's manor, finally coming upon Firen Viscensen himself. Except that it hadn't been. It had been the strange woman with yellow hair whose speech didn't match the movement of her lips and had bested him.

It hurt to remember, but she had bested him.

And then, for a moment, he thought about the fact that who he had thought to be Firen Viscensen had seemed strange, too. His speech hadn't matched the movement of his lips, either. But he tried to ignore the feeling that there was a masked shadow after him, at least for the time being.

He looked around in a feeble attempt to make sense of his surroundings, since he still could not gather the strength to stand. His body was immobile—he couldn't even feel it. His entire being felt heavy, as if his bones had been replaced by stones. It was dark, until his eyes adjusted; even then, there was overwhelming blackness. Feeling the dank, hard ground, he realized he was sitting on cobblestones. Completely surrounded by them, actually. But directly in front of him were thick, demeaning metal bars. Calming himself, keeping his panic at bay, he closed his eyes and took three deep breaths. It smelled like stale blood and rotting flesh. Somewhere much too close, he heard soft moans of pain, shaking sobs, crazed murmurs.

Link opened his eyes and knew where he was.

With what little strength he had, he pushed himself to his feet. His arms and legs nearly crumpled, tingling with fresh numbness, and when he turned his neck to the left, unbearable pain ran beneath his skin. His skin was covered in splotches of dirt, bloody scratches, tender bruises. His own saliva tasted like acid—dry, sour. But worse than all of that was the unfamiliar, warm tingling in his lips. And, of course, not being able to recall the beautiful melody of his dream. He took a few steps forward, to loosen his limbs, and stretched his arms high above his head. He wasn't sure what time of day it was. The darkness made it indiscernible, and his watch (along with his weapon and any other gear he'd had) had been taken from him. But still, he tried to remain calm. There was always some worse situation, he reminded himself. Always something more terrible that could have happened to him.

Link moved to the metal bars, wrapped his hands around them, and tried to look into the hall. He could hardly see anything except for the other cells, hands wrapped around bars just like his, bugs and rats crawling past his feet. The air itself was draining. Link recalled being with his friends, he recalled insisting to Raazi that he go in by himself, recalled Damita awkwardly telling him to be careful. It rushed back to him until he was overwhelmed with hopelessness. From what, he still wasn't entirely sure. Link let his forehead rest on the bars and squeezed, let the frustration flow into his trembling fingertips, closed his eyes. He squeezed until he could feel the metal leaving marks in his palms. He wanted so badly to feel his sword.

"You're awake," he suddenly heard. It was a low, smooth, confident voice. It sounded like a woman's. She had a heavy accent that Link didn't recognize. He stayed in his position, not sure where the voice was coming from (and not really caring). "It's been a while."

"You wouldn't happen to know the time, would you?"

"Around six in the morning."

"Thanks." He realized then that the voice was coming from the cell directly next to his. Still exasperated and pretty lost, he slumped to the ground and leaned his back against the wall between his cell and the mysterious voice's.

"You sound tired," she said.

"It was a long night."

"I assumed."

"Nice place the queen's got here," Link smiled as a cockroach passed by his toes. "Real accommodating."

"She likes to keep things tidy."

"I'll bet she does."

"What is your name?" she asked. He liked talking to her. She seemed interesting.

"Link."

"Hmm." She responded as if she had already known that. Link crossed his arms and leaned his head back.

"Yours?"

"Not important."

"All right."

"Why are you here, Link?" she asked. He had a feeling this was another question to which she already knew the answer, but she was asking anyway for some reason. Link picked at his fingernails, thought about his stupidity, and answered.

"I was careless."

"An interesting answer. But wrong."

At that, Link narrowed his eyes and straightened his back. This woman obviously knew who he was. She knew the answers to her own questions, could seemingly see into his mind. And yet he had never heard her voice before. At least, not in the past seven years.

"Oh?" he replied.

"You're here because Queen Zelda wants to kill you."

"News to me," he spat sarcastically. It was the first moment that he acknowledged the prospect of death since he'd woken up. "Isn't that why we're all here?"

"I have been here for seven years. So I think not."

_Seven years. A number with such significance. _

"What did you do to land seven years here?" he asked, though he wasn't actually expecting an answer. It was more of a courtesy.

"Terrible things," she whispered back. He chuckled, and though she didn't say anything after that, he could have sworn he heard her smile.

"Any advice from an old-timer?" he said. There was a pause, perhaps a way for her to fake that she was thinking, before she answered.

"I hope you have a lot of willpower. You will need it for today."

"Just today?"

Another pause. But this one was terrifying.

"Just today," she repeated ominously. "Let me ask you something, Link."

"Mm?"

"Where did you get that scar? The one on your left hand?"

His heart, his mind, everything just stopped. He was silent and thoughtless as he stared down at his gloved hand. The only one who knew of his scar, he remembered, was Damita. Not even Shad, not even Raazi, not even Vukan, not even Anowaika knew about it. He felt very, very scared.

"How did you—?"

"Prepare yourself, child." Her voice had dropped to a piercing, dangerous whisper. Link pressed his cheek to the wall behind him, somehow knowing that on the other side, this mysterious woman was doing the same. There was an urgency in the way she spoke, a knowledge of something that Link never wanted to witness. "Prepare yourself for suffering and pain."

"I've experienced it all already."

"No, you have not," she urged. "Not like the suffering and the pain you will see at the hands of Fate."

"I don't believe in fate."

"No," she chuckled. It was dry and dark. "No, of course you don't. But it exists."

Suddenly, he heard footsteps like gongs coming down the hall.

"It exists," she repeated hastily, "and it is coming for you."

Somehow, Link knew that was the end of the conversation. He grabbed his hand and stared up at the ceiling, just the same as one might stare down into darkness over the side of a cliff. He didn't expect anything to make sense in his head for a while, so for the moment, he allowed himself the numbness of not understanding. He allowed himself the numbness of being aware only of the footsteps growing closer and closer and closer. Until they were right there outside of his cell. But he would not look up. He didn't need to. He knew who was there anyway. He had recognized the sound of tyranny in those footsteps.

He heard the door open next. It creaked too loudly, he thought. Like an announcement to the world that somebody was coming inside of his cell. But he did not move. He did not blink. He did not even breathe. He simply stared down at the space in between his legs and ignored the tingling of his lips. Then he heard a few more footsteps, until there was a presence above him so dark, so full of pure hatred and cynicism and blood-thirst, that he felt it rising within himself.

The people of Hyrule said that Queen Zelda was the most beautiful woman Hyrule had seen in 200 years. They had once called her Zelda the Exquisite, in a time Link could not—would not—remember. But even then, his bitterness, his own hatred, kept him from looking up.

After all, he had taken up arms against her beneath the surface, beneath her own nose. So sitting in her jail cell, rotting in her shadow, was quite detrimental to his pride. Certainly detrimental enough that he would not look up at her.

"Poor thing, you look miserable. Though I assumed you would be accustomed to conditions like this, no?" Her voice was like music. The kind of beautiful, deep music that makes one want to hide away in the darkness and drown in it. But still, he did not respond. He made it a point not to move a muscle. That in itself would be a victory for her. And then, she laughed at him, because she knew what he was thinking. That laugh, like bells, was what almost made him flinch.

"Come now, stand up, darling. Stand up and show me your fine features."

Suddenly, her hand was there in front of his face. Delicate, graceful fingers encased in a white glove. Simply that hand drove his curiosity further, made him wonder what kind of face could have fingers like that. She was gesturing for him to grab it, but he did not. Forced himself not to.

"Stubborn, I see. Though you have always been stubborn, haven't you?"

She said those words, and they slithered down his spine like water trickling down a cliff. He kept staring at her hand blankly, trying to organize the thoughts in his mind without letting anything betray what he was feeling. That was the way to win with her. He knew, merely from the knowledge of the kind of person she was. She thrived from the suffering of others. So he had to make her think that her words, her presence—that none of it bothered him at all. Even though, in reality, he felt as if death itself were creeping closer and closer. Ready to wrap its claws around his throat and squeeze the life out of him.

Before he could comprehend it, he saw her flick her wrist. A discreet, fleeting motion that, had he not been paying excruciating attention, he would have missed. A simple, graceful, small flick. And then there was fire in his bones, like acid had replaced his very blood, and he had to bite his tongue to keep from screaming. A bite so hard that his teeth cut into his own flesh. He suddenly had no control over his limbs; his arms, his legs, none of them were his anymore. The index finger of that graceful little hand pointed up for a moment, and like a puppet with strings attached to the ceiling, Link stood up. He tried not to. He tried to just sit back down. But his legs weren't listening to him anymore.

And then he was right in front of her, perhaps half a foot taller, forced to look into her eyes and see the features of her face. All while the fire continued to boil beneath his skin. All while he tried so hard not to scream, because Link was not one to scream. Especially not now.

"There we go," she smiled. "I can see your face so much more clearly now." Through the blinding pain that seared within him, he was somehow able to make sense of the image in front of him. Much too close for comfort.

Link knew from the moment he set eyes on her that she was, without a doubt, the most beautiful woman Hyrule had seen in 200 years. Just as people said she was. If he had had any breath left in his lungs, the sight of her would have stolen it away. She was undeniably exquisite, the most beautiful creature Link had ever seen, with steely, ashen grey eyes that reflected his own, placed beneath thin, dark, angled eyebrows. Her hair was raven-black, tied up in an intricate labyrinth of waves and curls and secured with a single silver tiara. High, pale cheekbones led down to her perfectly sculpted, perfectly red lips, in their perfectly terrifying smile. Through that smile, he saw her white teeth peeking through. Her skin was pale, smooth—its perfection seemed, to him, unnatural. In fact, all of her perfection seemed unnatural. The way her navy blue dress accentuated her narrow waist, pushed up her chest.

Link felt something so strange when he looked into her eyes, determined to hold her gaze. He felt something deep inside of him stirring, emotions attempting to rise up but held back by something different: a shield of some sort. But now his heart hurt, too. The sight of her was more than he could handle. Especially when she was standing much too close, causing such pain with the flick of her wrist. An awakening (or so he hoped) was happening inside him.

"Well?" she said. Her words slipped from those picturesque lips smoothly, elegantly. In the way that only a queen's words can. "Have I changed much?"

He blinked a few times. Confusion was one thing Link hated above all else. He hated not being aware of his surroundings. But worse than that was not being aware of himself.

"You have not changed at all," she continued. "Taller, I suppose. And look, you have grown your hair out. You always have been a bit wild, darling. Mother never approved."

He hated that she was calling him darling. Like an old friend. He wanted to bend over and vomit. Seeing her, hearing her speak to him, feeling her evil presence in his flesh, was the worst thing he had ever felt. It was as if someone else owned his memories, knew a life that he had lived but couldn't remember. For she spoke knowingly, and he was certain from the tone in her voice that they had met before. From the emotions building in his chest, he knew. But his identity had long ago been stolen from him, and that left others knowing more about him than even he did.

And that was the worst feeling of all. Not knowing one's own identity. Leaving it in the hands, the minds, the memories of others.

Queen Zelda took a step forward until her forehead was only inches from his lips, and then, she began straightening his clothes. First his collar, then the edge of his pants, then the buttons of his vest. While he desperately wished he could lift his hands and push her away, but still held in place by the fire from her all-powerful index finger.

"I do wish you would say something," she sighed. Link made it a point then to close his mouth even more tightly. Surely that finger couldn't force it open. "But silent as ever, I see."

Without warning, Queen Zelda grabbed his left hand and lifted it up. For a few moments, she held it in both of hers, caressed it, examined the leather glove that he always wore to encase it. Still smiling and keeping her gaze firmly on his, she removed the glove.

And then she froze, her eyes glued to the triangular scar there. For what seemed like an eternity, they stood like that. He with his back straight, looking down at her looking down at his hand, forced to stand by an invisible fire when he wanted to run. She with his hand in hers, staring down unflinchingly, dangerously silent.

Queen Zelda's head snapped back up, and there was something different in her eyes.

_Shock, anger..._

_ Pure, unadulterated hatred. _

But then, her lips cracked into a smile once more, and it was the smile that terrified him the most.

"I was so looking forward to torturing you until you begged me to take it from you," she hissed. Her fiery breath was, strangely, like ice on his lips. "I wanted to see the look in your eyes when I ripped it from your soul."

He realized then that her fingernails, through her gloves, were digging into his skin like knives. He bit his lip again to keep from so much as whimpering. Wondering what 'it' was.

"But I suppose I will have to settle for torturing you until you beg for mere death." She dropped his hand, stood still for a few moments, seemed to relish in his emanated discomfort. "Not to worry. I will be here through it all."

The queen lifted her face until her lips were at his ear.

"Together, always. Because I keep my promises. You can be sure of that, Link."

And then she was gone, her footsteps leaving just the way they had come. But as she walked, she began humming. A sad, sweet melody that gave him the worst headache—as if his body remembered something that his brain couldn't.

That song faded with the princess's footsteps, and Link...for the first time in years...felt tears on the rims of his eyes. And he didn't know why.

Then the fire faded from his bones and he fell to his knees, shaken to his very core.

* * *

**Reunited and it feels so gooooooood!**

**except not**

**yay review**


	18. Whose Heart Is Pure

**ok so i genuinely do like all of my OCs (Raazi being my fave, Damita coming in at a close second), and Karis is definitely no exception. not sure where i got the inspiration for him, but i really enjoy writing about him. **

**i wanna know what you all think! **

**enjoy :)**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Seventeen

Whose Heart Is Pure

Karis slept in much later than he'd been planning. His mind was telling him to wake up, go about his business, make some kind of difference in the world. But his body—always such a traitor—made it hard to even open his eyes. Then, like a savior, there was a knock on his door. He first tried getting out of bed, which was an inevitable failure. He tried just sitting up then, but his bones seemed especially feeble that morning, and he couldn't.

"Come in," he called, resentful toward himself.

Slowly, the door opened, and it was the most refreshing sight he'd seen in weeks. A young man, younger than Karis by a few years, walked in. The most intense feature about him, the thing that always attracted attention first, were his eyes. Like shimmering rubies, one adorned with a mysterious, blood-colored tattoo. They stood out against his light skin, his thin pink lips, his bright yellow hair. Today it was in a ponytail, long and thick and draped over his shoulder. Some days (most days) it was a braid, sometimes just free and wild. When he walked in and caught Karis's eye, he smiled. A wide, toothy smile, manifesting some kind of sincere happiness. Happiness that spread through the room like candle incense.

"Hey stranger," he said, closing the door behind him. Beneath his tight, blue wraps and complimentary baggy cloths, making him seem like a warrior and a beggar all at once, Karis could see his muscles ripple when he walked. But so gracefully; he was otherworldly. Karis hadn't met any other Sheikah, so he wasn't sure if such grace was characteristic of the race or characteristic of Sheik himself. He walked over and sat down on the bed.

"Hello again," Karis replied. "It's so nice to see that smile again, you cannot imagine."

"How long has it been, exactly?"

"Six weeks," he replied. He had been relentlessly keeping track. "It's been strange, without the pranks and the jokes."

"So that's what you missed, huh?" Sheik snickered. "The pranks."

"I missed my friend," Karis smiled. His strength was returning to him. Simply Sheik's presence was energizing. "The castle has been so dreadful without you." Sheik smiled back, their interactions effortless and natural. Sheik was Karis's best friend. Ever since he had moved into the castle, became a true fixture in Queen Zelda's court, he and Sheik had grown closer and closer. It was, Karis knew, because they only had each other. In that world of deception, betrayal, jealousy, a hunger for power and blood, they had to rely on each other. With their loyalty, their good intentions...

Of course, Karis knew that Sheik wasn't as innocent as he liked to think. He wasn't called Queen Zelda's Shadow for no reason. Sometimes it was hard. Karis had such strong opinions when it came to killing.

But Sheik was his friend, regardless. His rock. The reason he had even managed to survive under the stress of the castle for so long. Their walks through the gardens, their games of chess, their jokes and Sheik's sense of humor (so long as the queen wasn't present) were what helped Karis through the endless days. And for the past six weeks, Karis had been miserable without him, surrounded by people he knew wanted him dead.

"Sorry it's been so long," Sheik continued.

"The queen must get what she wants, yes?" Karis replied.

"Yes. Yes she does."

There was always something strange, hidden, mysterious in the way that Sheik spoke about the queen. A glisten in his eyes, a subtle contortion of his sharp features, a twitch of his lips. Something that always made Karis feel uncomfortable.

"Did you do what was asked?" Karis said.

"Yup. No sweat."

Karis knew not to ask about Sheik's missions. It was strange—Sheik was such a carefree, smiling person the majority of the time. But when it came to Queen Zelda, when it came to his real job, he truly became like a shadow. Dedicated and silent and full of darkness. It was a side Karis didn't generally like to see. But this time, surprisingly enough, Sheik wanted to talk about it, it seemed.

"Do you want to come see him?" he asked.

"Who, now?"

"The person Queen Zelda wanted me to get," he replied. His eyes were wide and he was leaning forward in an excited, almost childish way. "A real rebel."

"A rebel?" Karis sat up straighter in bed with Sheik's help, his interest piqued. "What kind of rebel?"

"The kind that has connections all over Hyrule, supposedly," Sheik whispered. Karis felt like a teenager again, gossiping in hushed tones. "He's a mercenary, but more like an underground assassin—he's been running around killing the throne's allies for a while. He has done some crazy shit, let me tell you."

"How intriguing..."

_He is fighting against the queen,_ Karis thought. _A hero of the people, perhaps. No, certainly a hero of the people. _

"The most amazing thing is how tricky the bugger is," Sheik continued with his jittery grin. "It's taken us this long to get him. He kept slipping out of our grasp, like a worm. Has insane ways of covering his tracks. He and his little band of misfit rebels. That's why it took me six whole weeks to get the bastard."

"If anyone could do it, of course it would be you," Karis smiled.

"A given."

"I would like to see him, actually."

"I thought you might. Something exciting around here for once, yeah? Oh, do you need help getting dressed? You look a little pale today."

"I think I'll be okay, thank you."

"I'll wait outside. Take your time, kiddo."

Sheik patted Karis lightly on the shoulder, then left the room in that eerily graceful way of his. Within a few minutes of dazed, lightheaded clambering, Karis was dressed as nicely as always—in his traditional, noble Hylian attire—and his rebellious hair was combed. He walked out of his room and, with Sheik holding his arm gently, they began their trek down to the dungeons. Karis wasn't entirely sure why he wanted to see this prisoner, why he cared for the whims of a rebel that Zelda was no doubt going to squash beneath her heeled feet. But he was intrigued.

Karis felt the air in the castle become a bit lighter with Sheik by his side. Things fell back into a lull of semi-normalcy, although normalcy was never a true aspect of Karis's life. Not now, not ever. But at least having a friend, who smiled at him and held his arm when he walked (lest he fall and break his fragile bones), was enough to lift his spirits and brighten his skin.

"Sheik?"

"Yeah?"

"I did miss you," Karis said. "Very much."

They did not stop moving, but Sheik looked down at Karis and smiled. So widely that it turned into a chuckle, happy and harmonious.

"I missed you, too, Kar. It's good to be back."

Seeing him like that made Karis dread the moment that he sulked back into the shadows, transformed into the master disguise—into Queen Zelda's Shadow once more.

Karis had forgotten how irritating the stairway leading down to the dungeon was until he found himself stumbling, grasping the railings and Sheik's steady arms, on his way down. He tried to make conversation, to distract himself from the endeavor and the butterflies (why were they there?) in his heart.

"What is his name, Sheik?"

"Link. Don't know his last name."

"How good of a mercenary—erm, an assassin—is he?"

"The best. Could kill a man in the middle of the street without anyone noticing, probably."

"You mentioned a band of misfits...?"

"Yeah, he has a group of people he runs around with. A Gerudo, a Zora, a Goron, a couple Hylians. Although I think they have connections throughout Hyrule."

"Did you capture them, too?"

"No."

"Why not?"

"Queen Zelda would rather let the rebellion try and fail, extinguish itself, than fan the flames with murder."

"So she's waiting it out?"

"You could say that."

"How long has he been here?"

"Since last night. Got a good beating a couple hours ago, actually. Still wanna see him?"

"Yes."

They had reached the bottom of the stairs now, and Karis had learned everything he wanted to know for the time being. He was satisfied with that simple understanding; he was not the political type, didn't need to know much more than the bare minimum. He assumed that was another reason Zelda liked having him around. He didn't meddle very much.

The dungeons were much too dark for Karis's liking. Although the shadiness of it all alleviated his headache a bit. He held to Sheik for dear life, hardly able to see anything and walking in constant fear of stumbling on the uneven cobblestones. He heard the water dripping, felt the dampness deep in his skin, tried to block out the moans and groans of the prisoners. The dungeon was his least favorite part of the castle, and he still couldn't rationalize his desire to see this prisoner. Was seeing all this suffering, inflicted by the hands of his future wife, worth it?

_Strangely enough_, he thought, _I think it is. Something about this man..._

And he had not even seen his face yet. But there was a connection he felt. A bond. From the moment he had heard Sheik say the word, rebel.

Sheik finally stopped at one of the cells near the very back of the dungeon, after leading Karis through a labyrinth of cells and dim lanterns (even in the middle of the day). Then he let go of Karis's arm and leaned against the wall, head bowed and arms crossed, the way he did when he wanted to become a part of the shadows. Such an ominous stance, Karis observed. Then, turning toward the cell, he stepped forward and wrapped his bony fingers around the bars. He could hardly see, and had to squint, but his weak eyes adjusted after a few moments. And there, inside the cell, he saw the silhouette of a man. Leaning against the nearest wall, head bent toward the ceiling, one bloody leg bent and the other straight. Even Karis could see the shallowness of his breath, the stains of blood on his skin.

Karis did not say anything, and the young man did not say anything. But, after a few moments, he slowly turned his head. As if it were too heavy for his neck, and he had to be extra careful so as not to snap it. When his eyes, somehow bright and electrifying, fell upon Karis's, he felt electricity in his blood. An emotion he couldn't define running through his veins, digging deep into his soul to the point that he was nearly blinded by his own distress. Distress at seeing this person, somehow someone Karis felt undeniably close to. Someone whose bravery, whose valiance, whose determination was evident through his mere appearance.

Karis smiled. But, as expected, the young man did not smile back. His face was bruised, torn, his clothes nothing but rags. He had taken quite the beating.

"You have beautiful eyes. Very blue," Karis said. "Sheik, would you mind leaving me alone with him for a bit?" The young man narrowed his eyes, continued his silent, shallow breathing, while Karis was vaguely aware of the shadow behind him disappearing. Being alone now felt liberating.

"Your name is Link, yes? A pleasure to meet you. My name is Karis."

"Are you mocking me?" he replied. His voice was dry and emotionless.

"Not at all," Karis sighed. "You and I are very similar, after all."

"Similar?" he spat. "I know who you are. You're the queen's pet."

"Her betrothed, yes." Karis smiled again, undeterred. He had heard worse, been treated worse. "Which makes us more similar than you could imagine."

"How so?"

"We're both trapped. We dream of better lives," Karis shrugged. "More pure ways of living, I suppose. Not that I have much time left, anyway."

Link leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. Then he said, "Me, neither."

It was suddenly like a switch had been turned on in Karis's head. _A hero of the people, a warrior against the black-hearted queen who is to be my lover._ He whirled around to look down the hall. It was still just as empty as it had been before—the Iron Warriors were making their rounds and had yet to reach this area.

"You have something the queen wants," Karis mused to himself, "just like me. She will use us up then throw us out as if we never existed."

Then he crouched to his knees, ignoring the pain of his joints, and reached into his pocket. He pulled out a small hairpin, the size of his thumb and as thin as a feather, shimmering white even in the darkness. He'd had it since he was a little boy, when his mother used to pin his notorious bangs back. It smelled like orchids. He turned it over in his hands for a few moments, questioned his motivations, but swiftly shoved aside his doubts. The bond he felt was there, yes, and he needed to act upon it. To not let someone else be used as he was being used.

"Link," he said. "Take this."

He squeezed his arm through the metal bars, the hairpin in his palm. Link stared at him wordlessly, blankly. As if Karis hadn't even said anything.

"Take it. I want to help you. Trust me, please."

"Why do you want to help me?"

"Because if I can't save myself, at least I can save you," he murmured. "Take the hairpin."

Cautiously, slowly, with a slightly trembling hand and bloody fingertips, Link reached forward and grabbed the hairpin.

"Listen very carefully. The locks may seem well-made, but they're not—most people are just too frightened to attempt escape. If you can get the angle right with the hairpin in the lock, you can open the door. Tonight, after midnight, open the door. Work your way to the dungeon entrance, where your things are most likely being stored. Then walk all the way to the very end of the dungeons. When you get there, you will meet a dead end, a wall made of stones. One stone will be jutting out of the wall, so slightly that you won't see at first glance. When you find it, push it into the wall. A door will open, leading you straight into the sewer. Just follow it until you find yourself outside the castle gates. Do you understand?"

As Karis spoke, gave directions so deliberately and forcefully, Link fiddled with the hairpin. Karis could have sworn he saw a smile playing on his lips.

"Do you?" Karis repeated.

"Yeah," he sighed.

"Good. Now, it has to be tonight. And you must leave Castilia," Karis continued. Link didn't even blink. "Go south, east, west, just anywhere but here."

"She'll find me anywhere."

Karis opened his mouth to respond, to argue, but could not.

"Yes. But at least you can stall if you leave."

"Karis," Link began, "do you know all the terrible things I've done?"

"What, you mean killing people?"

"Mhmm."

"Yes."

"And you still want to help me? Even with that pure little heart of yours?"

"A pure little heart like mine can only take so much before it chooses sides," he explained. "She kills, you kill."

"Let me ask you something."

"All right."

"Do you think it's wrong that I kill people, even if they're bad? Even if she kills people?"

"Yes."

"You don't think the end justifies the means?"

"No."

"But you help me anyway."

"As I said, we are very similar," Karis smiled. "Your heart, I think, is just as pure as mine. You just show it differently."

At this, Link scoffed, tossing the hairpin into the air.

"You've got a lot to learn about judging people, royal dog."

"Really?" Karis grinned. "I've always heard that I'm a wonderful judge of character."

Link looked into his eyes again, that small, witty smile on his mouth. The hairpin in his fingers, light breathing, blood pouring from scratches on his skin. Karis looked into his eyes, too, and was amazed. At what, he wasn't sure. But that feeling would stay with him for the rest of his days, and he knew that right then and there. He would feel forever this bond with this vigilante, this beautiful young fugitive. So he told himself as he stood, gave Link one last smile, and left the dungeon.

That was the first and last time that Karis ever saw Link.


	19. Thief Eyes

**No comments for this chapter really. weeeeeeee enjoy**

* * *

Chapter Eighteen

Thief Eyes

Body aching, head pounding. The taste of blood on his tongue and the warmth of blood on his skin. He could hardly move—brittle bones, cold, cold, cold. The woman in the other cell had not spoken to him since that first time, and other than the tormenting voices in his head, he could hear nothing but the anxious, high-pitched, nonsensical ramblings of a prisoner somewhere across from him.

"Need to find the fairy," the prisoner kept saying. "Need to find my people."

When Link was alone, in pain, with nothing to distract him—asleep—it was the worst time (a reason he tended to avoid sleeping at night, a reason he preferred finding ways to distract himself). Those were the moments at which he would begin digging into himself, trying to find memories. Trying to find an identity, or just a semblance of one. Though at this point, it seemed only existent to everyone but him.

_Who am...was...I?_

He didn't bother praying, because there was nobody to pray to. He had come to that conclusion long ago.

He wondered what time it was. Then he started playing with the hairpin Karis had given him. It was smooth, expensive-looking. He could never wear it, not in a million years. Maybe after his escape he'd give it to Raazi. She liked accessories. And while these musings flitted in and out of his mind, he thought about that man. The flowery, nice-smelling, fragile little prince. Known throughout Hyrule as the future king. He'd looked so much like a lily, or an orchid, or maybe a tulip, perhaps even an expertly painted doll. Small, fine, feminine features, a delicate smile and soft eyes. Very different than Link had ever expected. A pure little heart, with even the will to help a murderer in the hopes that he would rise up and be the champion of the oppressed. The thought made Link laugh. _A murderer_, he thought. _That's what I am._

Though not too certain about Karis's abilities, Link knew that _he_ was the best judge of character out there. Could see everything in the soul through the eyes, a hidden (useful) talent. Some were more difficult than others—Damita, for example, was an open book, while Raazi was a little more mysterious and closed. But Link could read them all, and he had read Karis. Trapped within himself, within the crushing world around him, looking for a real purpose. One look into his eyes and Link had known to trust him.

The only person that Link couldn't read (and therefore couldn't trust) was himself. A rather sticky, beautifully ironic predicament.

Every part of his body still ached when he stood up. Those guards had beaten him as if they'd had a personal vendetta, telling him how sorry he'd be when Zelda came for him. Tomorrow, supposedly. He hoped the other inmates had enjoyed his screams. Link stretched out his limbs as best as he could; he'd need them to be at least semi-functional for his escape to be successful. The hairpin suddenly felt warm in his hands. It had to be after midnight, he decided.

Even if not, Link was not a patient person. So he set the plan in motion.

When he felt sufficiently stretched, he moved to the metal bars of his cell. He scanned the hallway, saw nobody and heard nobody other than the rambling prisoner and the scuttling mice. He inched closer to the lock of the door, clutching the hairpin. A hairpin was a funny thing to use to escape the queen's castle, and he actually smiled. It was just funny how things turned out sometimes. Link pushed his arm through the bars and groped until he found the lock, then groped some more to get the feel of it. The side of his head pressed against the bars, his arm twisted at a terribly awkward angle, and his breathing all but silent, he tried to inch the hairpin into the lock. As he made his continuous attempts, he wondered if it would even work. Such a dungeon should have proper security measures. The queen literally lived a few stories up. Surely there was no way...

Just as his doubts reached their peaks, he heard a click, and the creaking of the bars. He stepped back immediately to keep from making any sounds, holding onto the hairpin for dear life. Its white surface was stained from the grime and rust of the metal, but seemed even more beautiful than before. Silently, Link took a deep breath and thanked Karis—the future king who had, for some reason, took it upon himself to save his life. Link had long ago given up trying to understand the minds of the aristocrats.

Now that the door was open, Link needed to get his things. Not much, if he was being honest with himself: his boots, his sword, his wallet. Probably emptied of its scarce contents by now, too. But he did need his sword, and he wasn't keen on travelling through the sewers barefoot. He decided that, since Karis's instructions had worked so far, he'd continue to follow them. He opened the cell door as little as possible and squeezed through, sucking in his stomach. The cobblestones were harsh and rough against the bare soles of his feet, and somehow, it seemed so much colder on the other side of the bars. He took a moment to shiver—just to shiver. Then he turned in the direction Karis had told him to retrieve his belongings. He walked very close to the wall, hoping that if an Iron Warrior walked by, he'd be able to avoid being spotted. But that was the funny thing about Iron Warriors. You could hear them from a mile away.

He sidled along, back against any wall he could find, using his hands to direct where he was walking. Even though he was barefoot on the cobblestones, he found himself walking on his toes. And then, after a few minutes of peace, Link reached an intersection, and he heard the clobbering footsteps.

Link had two very important rules he followed without fail when it came to sneaking around. Number 1: always assume that whomever you're running from will look in every direction. Number 2: always assume that whomever you're running from will see your hiding place. So the main idea was to stay completely out of one's line of sight—though the occasional duck behind a well-placed barrel was sometimes a viable option. Of course, in a dungeon, there were no well-placed barrels.

Link pressed himself as tightly as possible to the wall and craned his neck around the corner, just until he could see the other side. Sure enough, he saw the lantern of an Iron Warrior making its way toward him. This was not an ideal situation. If Link stayed where he was, the Iron Warrior would turn (he assumed) and see him; but if he moved, the Iron Warrior might hear him, too. And if Link tried to attack, the other Iron Warriors patrolling would definitely hear.

_Could use some of your fancy potions right about now, Raaz._

He would have to think fast. The Iron Warrior was getting closer and closer.

Link decided to go back to the very basics of infiltration. The most cliché, overused tactic he could think of. One that, even after all this time, still worked the majority of the time. He crouched to his knees and desperately searched the ground for something, anything. His knees were about to burst from the pain, but he ignored it. Finally, his fingers fell upon a pebble, his little savior. Straightening back up, he squeezed it for a moment. Then, he threw it down the hall, in the direction in which the Iron Warrior was walking.

It was like magic every time.

As soon as the pebble collided with the stones, its crashes resounding like little screams through the halls, the Iron Warrior stopped. Link prepared himself, knew exactly what was next. It played out perfectly. The Warrior rushed forward toward the sound, waddling in its cumbersome armor and running straight past Link. As soon as he was far enough, Link leaped across the intersection on his toes, pressed himself against the opposite wall, and breathed a sigh of relief. Somehow, it had worked. It almost made him laugh. His friends definitely would have laughed.

After a couple seconds, Link continued down the hall. The thought of having his sword again drove him forward, motivated him more than he had anticipated; his hand felt empty without it. He felt naked, vulnerable. For seven years, he hadn't gone a single day without holding his sword in his hand. He didn't come across any other Iron Warriors and, commending the queen on her impenetrable security, finally arrived at the entrance. But, of course, there was a Warrior there. Standing erect at the bottom of the stairwell leading up to the castle, spear in hand, like a statue. Link stayed close to the wall, out of any spots of light from the lanterns on the walls, to rethink his plan. He could see where his sword and boots lay. Could hear them calling out to him. They were leaning against the wall, at the feet of the Iron Warrior.

_Maybe another way around?_

_ No. This is the only way. _

_ Goddammit..._

As he squeezed his fists, he became aware once again of the hairpin against his palm. Unfortunately, as strong as Karis's ill-judged good will was, the hairpin wouldn't do him much good in this situation. In fact, there wasn't much that would do him good in this situation—almost nothing that could silently, swiftly get him his weaponry and allow him an escape.

Suddenly, like a beautiful song, he heard a quiet sound coming from behind him. It made him freeze, listen with his pointed ears and his keen hearing. It sounded as if something were rolling, colliding with the stones at every angle, swiftly and softly toward him. Just before he turned his head, he felt something tap against his heel. Perhaps if he hadn't been paying attention, he wouldn't have even felt it. Moving as little as possible, he crouched, lifted the object, and stood back up. It fit easily into his palm. Then he opened his hand to see what it was, this little something that had somehow made its way down the dungeon halls to his feet.

It was a vial. Bloodcurdlingly similar to the ones that Raazi used for her alchemy. He could have sworn that he had seen this color before, maybe this texture. Inside was a purple powder, made of crystals so small that they melted together. When he shook it lightly, the grains all moved together. They were held inside with a cork, sealed so tightly that Link couldn't even smell what was inside. He knew about weapons, and he knew about strategy—but he knew almost nothing about magic and alchemy. But as he stared, observed, he noticed something etched onto the side of the vial. Words written in the most beautiful handwriting he had ever seen, the letters curling around each other like dancers. But the words sent shivers down his spine.

_Can you kill, boy with no memory?_

The answer, of course, was yes. And Link knew that without even blinking.

Without a second thought, Link covered his mouth and nose with his sleeve, popped open the cork with his thumb, and rolled the vial toward the guard. And then the guard was dead and Link grabbed his things and worked his way back the way he came.

* * *

He didn't bother hiding anymore. He had his sword drawn now, felt confidence pulsing in him through its blade. He had his boots on, too, and felt a bit more alive with his blisters covered for a reason he couldn't really pinpoint. He walked down the dungeon alleyways, his steps slicing through the darkness, back toward his cell. He would have to pass by it again to reach the wall that Karis had told him about, the wall with the secret exit that would lead him to freedom. So he walked with purpose, eyes staring straight ahead, shoulders slightly slouched (because that was just the way he walked). But he knew it wouldn't be a straight shot.

The vial had to have come from somewhere. Someone had sentenced that guard to death, and it hadn't been Link. He had only been the executioner.

_Perhaps,_ he thought, _that was all I have ever been. _

_ Like a puppet._

His steps slowed without him thinking about it when he reached his cell. Or, rather, a few meters before his cell. And then, he stopped. In front of the cell next to his. The tip of his sword dragging against the stones, staring at the ground—but at the iron bars through the corners of his eyes. He could feel his own shadow in the dim light of the lamps, set against the darkness around him. But there was a new source of light, now. Coming from the frightening inner labyrinth of that cell. A pair of eyes, as red as blood, shining even more brightly than the sun during the day. They stared at him, having been expecting him. And they were the only things he could see within the cell. Not the lips, not the nose, nothing of the face or the body that owned those eyes. Only those eyes. Something that perhaps he had seen in a nightmare before.

"I see murder on your sword," the woman said. The one who had told him the time earlier. The one who knew his name and about his scar and laughed when he told her he didn't believe in fate. The one who had sentenced the guard to death. "I see it in your eyes, too."

"I see it in yours."

"Yes. It is here." She paused. "I have been waiting a long time for this day."

"Who are you?" He finally turned and faced those eyes. Not that he was expecting an answer. He knew better than that. But he asked anyway.

"Who are you?" she replied.

"You probably know better than I do."

"I know who you are, yes. But I don't know _who_ you are. Only you know that."

He saw a smirk in those eyes. Those bloodshot, piercing eyes. He would see them again in his nightmares tonight.

"Why did you send me the vial?" he asked.

"Why did you use it?"

He didn't like her habit of answering questions with questions.

_She's been in here for seven years. Where did she even get it?_

"To get my weapons."

"Then I sent it to you to help you get your weapons," she said, with her laughing eyes. "Where are you going now, boy with no memory?" The way she said it made him wonder if she was the one with his memory, hiding it selfishly from its true owner.

He didn't respond.

"Come closer."

He obeyed without hesitation. He crouched right in front of the bars, until those red eyes were so close that he could see the outline of her pupils, the veins pulsing outward like snakes in a pool of blood. But as close as he was, he could see only those eyes. It seemed strange. Not even an outline of her face, her lips, nothing.

"Your time has come. Find the Masked One," she murmured, her voice filled with burning flames, "and tell him you are the Scarred One. Then show him your back."

His back was where his tattoos were—tattoos that he, of course, didn't remember getting.

Then, the woman lifted her arm. It jutted out through the bars, pointing with a single index finger. Her skin was not pale, not bronzed, not colored in any way. It was the most dull shade of grey. As shallow and gaunt as it seemed, it was stretched out over an arm angled and sculpted with antique muscles. The veins, through which some type of blood must have been pumping, were thick and visible against that grey skin. Her fingers were long and ashen, nails long and hooked and cracked. He turned and stared at the point where that claw-like finger pointed: to a cell directly across.

"Take with you the man in that cell. You will need him." Then she lowered her arm again and that one hint of her identity withdrew back into darkness. "Now go. The man of flowers who spoke to you earlier is right. You must leave Castilia. But first you must speak to the Masked One. Then you will know where to go."

He nodded, as if that might make the situation clearer.

"Stand, boy with no memory. Take that man from his cell and leave this place."

He obeyed. He stood up and prepared to break into the cell of the man (the one who rambled about his fairies), to take him and run the way Karis had told him. But before he did, he turned over his shoulder, to ask one more question to those eyes.

"Are you the one who stole my memory from me?" he whispered.

There was a pause. The longest stretch of time that he had ever experienced. He was floating, suspended in the air, waiting for this answer to this question he shouldn't have asked.

"Yes. I stole your memory from you."

"You gave me this scar?" he continued, staring at his gloved left hand.

"Yes. I gave you that scar."

He smiled, his grip on his sword in one hand and the hairpin in the other tightening.

"I'll repay the favor someday."

"I look forward to it. For we shall meet again."

Then those eyes disappeared. And Link had never been so relieved in his life.


	20. Fairy Lady

**Hiiiii so this is the first chapter of part two! wow exciting much loz**

**things start getting more exciting in this part, i hope you all agree :)**

**love forever and always xoxo**

* * *

_PART TWO_

_CHART_

* * *

Chapter Nineteen

Fairy Lady

Damita sat cross-legged on her bed, wondering what crazy demon had possessed her. She sat like a statue, staring straight ahead. Lying in front of her on the bed were two long, curved swords—certainly more dull than most of the weaponry she made. They hadn't been used in a very long time. In fact, she hadn't touched them in a very long time. Even when she had placed them there, she had done so in a manner that ensured she wouldn't have to touch them until the time truly came. They were like ghosts there, carrying memories of regret in the bloody curves of their blades. Her fingers itched, ached, burned just looking at them. She couldn't imagine what it would feel like to use them again.

"Relax, little bird," Raazi said. It was Damita's Gerudo nickname, used in the deserts for the rebellious, free children. She was sitting behind her on the bed, playing with her hair. She was taking random tendrils, running her fingers through the tangles, and braiding them. A way to pass the time. "You are so tense."

"What could possibly relax me, Raazi?"

"You make your point." Her voice was so smooth—too smooth in such a situation—as it flowed through the air. Shad, Anowaika, and Vukan were in the other room, going over the plans last minute. But Raazi had insisted that she and Damita withdraw to the bedroom, to make their own preparations. Damita hadn't thanked her for it, but she was grateful anyway. Raazi had the strange ability to calm Damita's nerves simply by her presence. Simply by the way her fingers moved through her hair and the way her voice moved through the air. She had had that ability ever since Damita had first met her, three and a half years ago.

"We will have to put a scarf on your hair," Raazi continued.

"Why?"

"Not many have moonlight hair like yours. They will know who you are if they see you."

"I like the way you describe it," Damita smiled. "Moonlight hair."

She felt Raazi's laugh on the back of her neck, and then the Gerudo placed her chin on Damita's left shoulder and continued playing with her shoulder-length hair. She smelled like a combination of jasmine and tobacco. With her bronze skin, her full dark lips (purple lipstick? or really dark red?), her deep red hair, her charcoal-outlined eyes, her nose and ears adorned with jewels; Damita couldn't help but feel jealous. She, with her pale skin, her skinny limbs, her thin lips.

_I do have my moonlight hair. _

_Is this actually what I'm thinking about right now?_

"You seem very worried, Damita."

"Can't say I'm very comfortable, no."

"Are you worried for Link?"

She didn't want to hear herself answer the question, so she turned her head away from Raazi's knowing gaze. Her golden eyes were too much sometimes. Too golden, too knowing, too in-tune with the world around them. And she knew she didn't have to answer that question.

"I am as well," Raazi continued. "But he is strong. And it is not his time yet."

"How do you know that?"

"I feel it," she murmured. "The goddesses are not ready for him yet. He has too much to do here."

"What goddesses?" Damita scoffed. "Sometimes you forget that I don't buy into your spiritual gut feelings."

"Believe what you will, but it is not his time."

She lifted her chin and returned to the braiding. She began to sway back and forth discreetly, rhythmically, and she began humming. A beautiful and haunting melody, coming straight from the heart of the desert and out through Raazi's puckered lips. Damita tried to relax, at least her muscles, but could not. She sat as straight as an arrow, but could not stay focused on any one thing or thought. She tried to focus on Raazi's nice little melody, but couldn't even do that. Her eyes and her mind bounced around, along the walls and the floors and the ceilings, wishing the burning on her forehead from his lips would just stop. It was like a warning, something saying to her, "This might have been the last one."

_We're so stupid. _

"Little bird, can I ask you something?"

"Sure."

"You do not have to answer."

Damita narrowed her eyes and turned around. Raazi smiled. Now she was nervous about this question.

"...okay?"

"Do you love him?"

"No." The answer had left Damita's lips before Raazi had even finished asking her question. And it wasn't instinct; she meant it. Raazi's dark eyebrows curved up, as if she had been expecting the answer but was still intrigued by it.

"You seem very certain."

"I am."

Raazi didn't answer. She just pursed her lips and continued braiding, continued humming, satisfied with the answer she had been given. After all, Damita couldn't have given any other answer. She didn't love Link. And he, of course, didn't love her. That had been established long ago, when they had decided that sleeping together was a good (kind of good) idea. And it wouldn't have worked out this perfectly if they did love each other—if she broke her vow and ever decided to love again.

But he was important to her.

Perhaps the most important person in her life.

_ Definitely the most important person in my life._

"What? Did you say something?" Raazi asked. Damita realized that she had been mumbling to herself again, so she shook her head and squeezed her eyes shut and felt grateful that Raazi couldn't see her face.

"No. Nothing. How much time do we have left?"

"Half of an hour."

"Can't wait."

"Are you nervous?"

"Yes. I'm probably rusty, too."

"It will be like instinct."

"Yeah, sure, whatever you say."

Suddenly, without warning, Raazi let her hair fall from her fingers and wrapped her arms around Damita's collarbone. It was an embrace that, though Damita hadn't truly been aware, she needed. She needed to feel that Raazi was there—that someone was there. Because there had been too many moments in her life when there hadn't been anybody there. Raazi hugged her tightly, cheek to cheek.

"Do not lose your hope. It is your most important weapon."

Damita felt her worst fears surfacing. She had been keeping them at bay, burrowed deep down inside her. She had tried blocking them out, tried thinking about anything but those fears. But now, in the face of what she and Raazi were about to do, they were coming. And when she opened her mouth, they flowed.

"What if he dies?" she croaked. "What am I going to do if he dies?" The pause that followed her question, just the fact that Raazi hesitated in answering, made her heart sink even lower. She didn't want to hear an answer anymore.

_Why are my eyes so wet?_

_ It's not fair._

They were jarred from their embrace, from their chilling silence, by a soft knock on the door. So soft that it was almost inaudible. Raazi let go and stood up in the blink of an eye, while Damita straightened up, wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, and stared at the door. She could hear Shad, Ano, and Vukan standing up from the table in the kitchen. They were silent and still for a few moments in mutual caution. Then the knock came again, and Damita could have sworn she heard a voice.

"I'm going to answer it," she declared. Nobody tried to stop her. She didn't know who it was, what someone might want with her at this hour (probably around 2 o'clock in the morning)—she didn't even want to think about how they'd managed to get in. The door to the armory was locked. At least, it should have been. In her bare feet and unevenly braided hair, wearing all black, Damita made her way to the door. The others gathered in the large room that was the center of the apartment, waiting with bated breath.

_Who the hell...?_

For some reason, Damita and Link had never put a peephole in the door. This was the only time she had ever regretted that laziness.

_Definitely putting a peephole. _

Damita put her hands on the doorknob and opened it. She didn't bother being cautious. She just swung it wide open, prepared to face whomever—whatever—was there to greet her. But when she saw who was on the other side of the door, she couldn't say a single word. She couldn't feel anything at all.

"Hey," Link said, the words creeping like molasses from his cracked lips.

"You..." Damita began. "You look like shit."

He somehow managed a smile, but looked all the while like he was about to collapse to his knees. When she saw that smile, had had a few moments to truly take in the fact that a bloody and exhausted Link was standing before her, her instincts kicked in again. She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him so tightly that even she couldn't breathe. It was the only way to show her relief, to feel it.

"Good goddesses, is that Link?" Shad cried.

"Link! How...how did you—?" Anowaika cried.

"Damita, help him inside."

Damita was vaguely aware of Raazi's voice saying her name, vaguely aware of the command she had been given. With one last squeeze, afraid that when she let go he might disappear, Damita unwrapped her arms from around his neck and put his arm around her shoulders, to let him lean on her. He was terrifyingly unresponsive. Still conscious, still aware, but more exhausted than Damita had ever seen him. With both of them hanging on for dear life, they limped into the room—but before they could get much farther than the entryway, Vukan stepped forward, scooped Link into his arms as if he were a doll, and carried him to the bed.

And in the midst of all of this, they hadn't noticed the short, stocky, anxious man who had been standing behind Link the entire time. They didn't even realize he was there until he spoke.

"Excuse me, pretty lady, but you wouldn't happen to be a fairy, would you?"

They all whirled around, suddenly aware of this strange man.

"I brought a friend," Link called weakly from the bed. "Hope you don't mind."

Before Damita could really get a good look at him, she grabbed his arm, pulled him into the room, and slammed the door. Then she stepped back, and the five of them—Damita, Shad, Anowaika, Vukan, and Raazi—took a look at him.

He was definitely shorter than any man Damita had ever seen. Shorter than her by at least a foot. He wasn't muscular, and he certainly wasn't skinny. Bulges of fat poked out from the rags that just barely covered his stained, grimy skin. His face was pudgy, as well, with puffed out cheeks that hung down like an overgrown baby's might. Tufts of hair, perhaps light and perhaps dark, poked out from his scalp unevenly, and the stubble along his chin was uneven, as well. As if he had tried to shave but failed miserably. His eyes were small and brown and beady, and they wouldn't stop darting around the room. In fact, he himself would not stop moving. He kept shifting his weight from one foot to another, fidgeting with his fingers and rubbing his hands together, and every few seconds his neck would twitch to the left. Not something that could be helped, it seemed.

"Link," Ano called, a scowl on her lips. "Who...who is this?"

"Y-you there!" the man cried, pointing a pudgy little finger at Damita. She almost stepped back. "Pretty lady. Are you a fairy?"

"Am I a what?"

"Normal people don't have silver hair," he continued. His voice was slithery, shaky, nervous. She could feel the sweat coming off his tongue and into the air. "Fairies have silver hair."

"I'm not a fairy, you fu—"

"This is going to sound awfully strange, my dear fellow, but have we met before?" Shad stepped forward, his hand on his chin and a quizzical look wrinkling his brow. He didn't seem the least bit skeptical about this man, not the least bit nervous about his presence. The man looked at him, from his forehead down to his toes and back up again with his eyes squinted, and then began shaking his head vigorously.

"No. But you have strange clothes."

"I am absolutely certain that I have seen your face before," Shad persisted. Damita didn't like the way he was looking at this intruder. And she really didn't like the way her apartment suddenly smelled. But she was still in a bit of a haze, high on her relief, in disbelief that Link was lying safely in bed. Raazi had gone into the kitchen, wet a towel, and was now at Link's bedside, dabbing his forehead with it.

"Link, babe, what is this man doing in my apartment?"

"I have no idea."

"Do you even know who the hell he is?"

"I am Tingle," the man interjected. Damita had almost forgotten that he could answer these questions himself. "And Tingle is looking for the fairies. You wouldn't happen to know where they are, would you?"

"Tingle!" Shad cried, throwing his arms into the air. His actions were so sudden and his cry so loud that Damita and Anowaika both jumped, straight back against Vukan's rock-hard stomach. "I knew I had seen you before! Of course I know who you are!"

"You do?" Damita, Link, and Anowaika all said at the same time.

"How truly fascinating it is to meet you, my good man," Shad gushed. He stepped forward and grabbed one of the man's hands, shaking it enthusiastically. "I have heard oh so much about you."

"From the fairies? Did you tell them Tingle has been looking for them?"

"W-well, no, not from the—"

"Tingle has been searching for so long, it would be wonderful if you could take Tingle to them."

The man, Tingle, began shuffling around the room, looking around as if something were about to pop up at him. Damita turned over her shoulder to throw a confused look at Link. He simply shrugged as Raazi dabbed his forehead.

"Anowaika, would you come heal his cuts, please?" she called.

"O-of course." Staring incredulously at the man, Anowaika moved slowly to the bed, where she began searching for his cuts with her webbed fingers. Each time they fell upon one, she took a deep breath, then exhaled out into him, while he closed his eyes and bit his lower lip. Where his bleeding cuts had been, she left only small scars, which would disappear within three days. It was an ability that made Anowaika an unbelievable asset to the team—and an incredible friend to have.

"Shad, who is this guy?" Damita asked, directing her attention to Shad. She was speaking from the side of her mouth, so that Tingle wouldn't hear. Though he might not have heard anyway. He seemed lost in his own world, looking around with such distinctive wonder. Shad, similarly, watched the man with eyes glittering with fascination.

"He's a cartographer," Shad answered through his pursed lips. "Perhaps the best one that Hyrule has ever seen or will ever see."

"A cartographer? Like a person who makes maps?"

"Maps?!" At the sound of that word, Tingle stopped and turned on his heels to face them. His beady eyes suddenly sparkled, a smile spread across his lips. But it was not a normal smile. It was the kind of smile Damita imagined on a serial killer's face right before he killed you. "Do you have maps? Tingle is very good with maps."

"Tingle is very good with maps," Shad nodded. He was grinning like an anxious, frazzled little boy. "Unbelievably good. I have heard that he can walk through an area just once and map it all out. And, of course, he can read any map that you throw at him."

"Tingle likes maps," the man nodded. "Oh! Tingle just remembered. Tingle didn't make a map of the dungeon. Do you have a pen and paper, man with strange clothes?"

Without so much as a questioning whimper, Shad began rummaging through the cupboard. Once he managed to drag out the pen and paper (which Damita couldn't remember ever having), he handed them to Tingle. The man grabbed them hungrily, then sat down on the floor right where he was. He seemed to take no notice of the pairs of eyes, skeptical and curious, watching him unabashedly. They watched like that, while he scribbled and scribbled away, for a few minutes. And then, Tingle threw aside the pen and lifted the paper proudly.

"Tingle has made his map. Would you like to see it?"

"Yes, yes I would!" Shad nodded. He whisked the sheet away and, putting their heads together, he and Damita stared at it.

"No kidding," Damita breathed. "That's a map all right."

"Depicting the castle dungeon in such exquisite detail," Shad added. "You are a genius, Tingle."

"Tingle knows."

"Hold on a second." Damita raised her arms and stepped back, as the true magnitude of the situation dawned on her. "Why were you in the dungeon, little map man?"

"The guards got mad at Tingle," he replied, lowering his voice to a childish whisper.

"Translation, Shad?"

"I believe a few months ago, Tingle was put in the dungeon for...hmm, what was the charge again...ah, yes. Theft."

"Theft?"

"The man happens to be a kleptomaniac."

"Well, then it's a good thing I don't have much in this place."

"Tingle needs gifts for his fairy friends," Tingle interrupted. "That is why Tingle steals."

"He also happens to be a bit deranged," Shad murmured. "Apparently, he believes himself to be a fairy."

"No shit."

Damita and Shad, letting the man make himself comfortable on the wooden floor, moved into the bedroom where the others stood at Link's bedside. Most of his cuts were healed, and Raazi had somehow managed to make herself a cup of tea in the meantime, while Vukan stood stoically in the corner.

"Why is map-maker here?" Raazi finally asked. "Why did you bring him?"

Link's droopy eyes looked over at her, as though not really seeing anything, but he didn't even look like he was going to attempt a response. The longer that Damita watched him, the more her heart seemed to ache. With what, she wasn't sure. She plopped down next to him and grabbed his hand, without saying a word.

"Well, we're just glad you're back home safely," Shad said, fixing his glasses. "Though, now that you are..."

"You will have to leave this place," Raazi finished. The words made even Damita cringe. But she couldn't argue. The thought had been lingering in the back of her mind ever since he'd showed up. Nobody else said a word about it. Link nodded and, finally, opened his mouth.

"I have to find the Masked One," he suddenly said.

"The Masked One? What are you talking about?" Anowaika asked. Though she was a bit out of breath from the energy exerted in healing him.

"Maybe he's delusional from exhaustion?" Damita offered, while she squeezed his hand. But Link vehemently shook his head.

"I'm not delusional. Someone at the castle...someone at the castle told me to bring Tingle and to find the Masked One."

"That sounds very strange, Link," Shad sighed. "Who was this someone?"

But it was clear that Link wasn't going to answer any more questions. He closed his eyes and leaned his head back against the pillows Raazi had propped there, and was asleep within moments. In the other room, they could hear Tingle rambling to himself, scratching at the floor with his fingernails.

"I do not know what happened at the castle, but Link appears determined," Raazi spoke up. "He would not have brought the Tingle otherwise." The Gerudo threw a sideways glance at the man, and then muttered something in Gerudic with a shake of her head.

"Something strange is going on," Anowaika agreed. "I can feel it."

And then, as Link's words echoed in her mind, Damita had an epiphany. She smiled, looked each of her friends in the eyes, and gave Link's hand another squeeze.

"What, Damita?" Shad urged.

"Regardless of who this person was and why Link wants to find this Masked One, I don't think it'll be a problem."

"Why not?"

She grinned and raised her eyebrows.

"Because I know exactly who the Masked One is, and I know exactly where to find him."


	21. Shadow of Queen

**zelda ew what a creeper amirite**

**another short one**

**and then the fun begins. o(0,0)o**

**enjoyyyyyy **

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Twenty

Shadow of Queen

The queen gripped the arms of her throne so tightly that her knuckles began turning white. She felt the tension in her jaw, her teeth grinding against each other. Her patience was waning, her anger and frustration bubbling against her dam. She had ordered that she be left alone to sit on her throne and seethe—she did not want anybody to see the shade of red her skin was becoming. For she had woken up that morning and been told that her prisoner was gone. That somehow he had slithered through the stones of the castle walls and disappeared into the dark Hyrulean night. As if he had never been in the castle at all. Zelda had wanted so badly to wring his neck, suck the life out of him with her own two hands.

And she would, eventually.

But even as patient as she was, the situation was not ideal.

And, of course, there was the issue of the Triforce of Courage. For Link, even if he had not escaped, would have been no use to her in that area; he did not have it. All he had was a scar.

_Just one more piece, that is all I need..._

Suddenly, the door to the throne room creaked open, and in came the one person she had summoned—the one they called her shadow. Sheik walked in without a word, strode gracefully along the red carpet to the center of the high-ceilinged room, and knelt on one knee with his head bowed. Zelda straightened her back and forced her muscles, in her limbs and her face, to relax.

"Sheik."

"Your Highness," he said. He was wearing his suit, his yellow hair falling over his shoulder in a single braid. "You called?"

"Yes." She paused, her eyes fluttering among the tapestries hanging from the vast walls. There were so many, depicting so many scenes. Battles and coronations and marriages. "Link is gone."

"He is."

"How?"

"I don't know," he replied. "All we know is that his cell is empty and the person who was guarding his weapons is dead." He lifted his head slightly, just so that the queen could see the red glint of his irises. His expression was completely blank. Like a slab of stone. A pristine little slab of stone.

* * *

_Twelve long years it's been since Sheik and I met. He is very different now. I am very different now, of course, but it is certainly more obvious in him. He no longer laughs, no longer jokes, no longer flashes me his hearty smiles. He knows me well. He knows not to smile the way he used to in my presence. He knows not to wink at me while he makes faces behind the council members' backs, he knows not to put frogs underneath the tables at dinner, he knows not to be casual with me. He knows that those days are gone. They have been gone for such a long time. _

_ I wonder if he smiles in privacy, though. If that little slab of stone becomes flesh and he looks at himself in the mirror and smiles simply to remember what it feels like. It is interesting to imagine that—for I no longer see him as a friend. He is my shadow now. He does what I tell him to do without batting an eyelash, he heeds my every command. He is my secret weapon. Not my friend. _

_ In a position like mine, friends are a liability. _

_ But more importantly..._

_ Friends do not exist. _

_ Because a queen can trust absolutely nobody but herself. _

_Nobody._

* * *

"Should I send a warrant for his arrest, Your Highness?" he asked. His voice was hollow, too. Like hers. They were very similar in a lot of ways, actually.

"No. No, I don't want his name and face known throughout Hyrule," she said. "A fugitive like him can easily find friends, and we should not help him."

"We just let him be, then?"

"Don't be stupid. Of course not." She scoffed and turned her eyes to the ground, wracking her brain for some kind of plan. She called upon the wisdom that ran through her limbs, called upon the gifts the gods had decided so generously to bestow upon her. The image of the scar, so red and clear on the back of Link's left hand, flashed in her mind.

_Where is it...why doesn't he have it...?_

She recalled that night seven years ago. A night she had slept through so soundly, only to awaken to a completely changed world. She tried to remember every single minute detail, paint the most vibrant picture in her head. Give herself some clues about where the Triforce was, where Link was, how she was going to get to them.

And then she knew. She understood everything.

It made her feel so very powerful.

"If Link no longer has the Triforce," she declared, "then he will go searching for it."

"Will he, now?"

"Yes."

"He doesn't even understand what it is, nor does he believe in its existence."

"No, you are right," she smirked. "But he will search for it to keep me from getting it."

"All right," Sheik said, "but does either of you know where it is?"

"No." She paused. Sheik lifted his head all the way, staring at her with eyes narrowed in confusion. "But I know someone who does."

"Excuse me, Your Highness?" he said with a raise of his eyebrows. "Someone knows where the Triforce of Courage is?"

"Yes. And you will go with her to get it before Link does."

"Her...?"

Zelda grinned while Sheik's face grew pale.

"You don't mean—"

"I do. She knows exactly where the Triforce of Courage is, and she will take you to it."

As Sheik's eyes grew dark and his skin became nearly white, he stood straight up and looked into the queen's eyes. She was impressed by his straightforwardness, by his sudden courage to look at her with such drama, such intensity. Sheik never failed to amuse, she could definitely give him that.

"What makes you think she will do anything for us," he spat, "Your Highness?"

"She will have no choice," Zelda replied. "She will do anything I ask."

"Why is that?" He sounded so unconvinced, and in a way, terrified.

_So amusing, my shadow. _

"She will do anything to protect that which is holy to her. And I happen to have in my fingers just that."

"I don't understand, Your Highness. You have what is holy to her?"

"I have Link's life in my hands." She stretched out her left hand, wiggling her fingers just until small bursts of magic flashed there. "And I have your life in my hands." She stretched out her right hand, wiggled those fingers, as well.

Sheik could not reply.

"She will do anything to protect Link's life. And she will do anything to protect your life."

"How do you know that?" he hissed. She had never seen him so reluctant to obey her orders, so skeptical of her knowledge. But she was the wisest person in Hyrule—in the entire world. It was in her blood. Zelda stood from her throne and stared down at him, felt the bloodlust glistening in her eyes.

"Shadows are meant to be kept in the dark," she said. He maintained eye contact for a few moments, and for a split second, Zelda could see nothing but that red. And then, he bowed his head obediently.

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Tomorrow, before the sun rises, you will go to her and you will give her my orders. Then you both shall go—and you will not return until you have the Triforce of Courage."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Unless you happen to find Link on your journey. In which case you will bring him here alive."

"Yes, Your Highness."

"Good. Now go."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Sheik turned on his heels and made his way toward the door. But just before his slender, toned frame disappeared from sight, she opened her mouth and called out to him.

"Oh, and Sheik. Don't forget to give Impa my regards," she said. "After all, it has been such a long time."

She relished in the anguish that crossed his features before he said, in utter defeat, "Yes, Your Highness."


	22. Circus of Masks

**ok boring stuff DONE YAY**

**this chapter is one of my favorites, if I'm being honest. I had a lot of fun with it. **

**-circus music recommended-**

**As always, reviews, questions, comments, concerns-all that jazz would make me very happy ^,^**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-One

Circus of Masks

Raazi met Shad outside of his house that day, and together, they walked to Damita's armory. For the third day in a row, Shad would not be working with her in the smithy. He and Raazi had their own errands to run, their own people to see and things to do. Specifically, together, they were going to see the Masked One. But Damita was the only one who had any inkling of who this person was—and she seemed rather adamant about it. Raazi and Shad were to stop by the armory, get the address from her, go find the Masked One, and bring him back to see Link. Who, for understandable reasons, was to stay in bed (or at least in the apartment) until his departure from Castilia. When or where that was to occur, nobody knew. And they were all avoiding that conversation like the plague; at least, Shad had been pushing the subject from the forefront of his mind to the very back. He didn't want to admit it, but he wasn't sure if he was ready for the status quo to change just yet. Not ready for his routine to fall apart.

Or for one of his best friends to leave Castilia for a rather indefinite amount of time.

"You look so glum, little cat," Raazi said to him as they walked. She was not wearing her house dress, nor her dancing garments, but something in between—the beautiful white, two-piece outfit that seemed so common among the Gerudo, with red and blue and purple designs. She had let her hair down so that it swung like a pendulum when she walked. Anowaika and Vukan had not been able to join them, with their own daily routines to run.

"I can't say I'm in the highest of spirits," he sighed. Raazi smiled her small, mysterious smile and looked up at the sky.

"Do not worry so much. There is a path, and we are merely walking it."

"I don't think I like the sound of that."

"You are not supposed to."

"Aren't you nervous at all? Scared about what might happen to Link—to us?"

"To the Fierce Deities? No, I am not scared," she said. And she sounded like she meant it. "We will do what we must and what we can."

Shad clutched his notebook more tightly to his side but didn't bother fixing his glasses. The more they slid down his nose, the more of an excuse he had to be distracted from everything else in the world. They walked the rest of the way in silence, but with a strange understanding of each other. He could feel her relaxation, her trust in the invisible mechanisms of the world. While he walked with such tension, such a sour expression, such a frazzled glisten in his eyes. Shad was never one to avoid admitting how frightened he was—not that he would have been able to keep it a secret, even if he tried.

When they reached the armory, it was around ten o'clock in the morning. Every day the armory opened at eight o'clock sharp, after Damita had finished her morning jog and the bells of the temple began to ring. There already seemed to be a steady flow of customers in and out, though it was still a bit early. Together, Raazi and Shad walked inside. There were a few people sitting in the chairs inside, surely waiting for their orders—others were standing in line at the counter, weapons in hand. Gorons, Zoras, Hylians, Gerudo alike. Perhaps a half-blooded Sheikah, it looked like? And there, working in heat of the orange furnace and surrounded by the sounds of metal against metal, was a sweaty and focused Damita. She was in the back, where the smithy really was, working as she always did. But when she worked, there was always something different about her. Something in the way she tied her silver strands of hair away from her face, the way she rolled up the bottom of her sleeveless shirt and tucked it under, the way she bit her lower lip. Almost as if she were a completely different person from the carefree, sarcastic, rebellious girl they knew.

But, of course, Shad had grown accustomed to this side of her. After working alongside her for around two years, that was only natural. Suddenly, though, he was worried. Perhaps today was one of her bad days—days during which she withdrew into herself, refused to talk to anyone but her customers, worked and worked and worked and then curled up in bed and slept after drinking more than a Hylian should be able to. These days were unpredictable and scattered, and not even Damita could know if she would wake up one morning finding life meaningless. At first, they had tried consoling her, not truly knowing about what they were consoling, but they had eventually realized it was pointless. On those days, it was best to leave her to herself. Shad prayed that today wasn't one of her bad days.

"Good morning, Damita!" Raazi called, loud enough that her voice rose up over the sound of the blacksmithing. Damita whipped her head up, a look of irritated surprise on her face, but when she saw them she nodded her head and threw them a toothy grin.

_Not a bad day. Good. _

"Sorry I can't stop to chat, but I have so much work to do," she called. "There's a paper on the counter over there—I wrote down everything you need to know there."

As Shad stood by the entrance, Raazi weaved her way through the line of people (who stared at her with disdainful looks) and walked up to the counter, where there was, indeed, a piece of paper folded in half.

"Thank you! We'll come see you as soon as we're done," Shad called.

"Sounds good," she replied. "Oh, and just a warning before you go—try not to pee your pants when you meet him."

Before Shad had the chance to respond to such a crude warning, Raazi grabbed him by the elbow and dragged him out of the armory.

_Wonderful advice. Just wonderful. _

"What do you think she meant by that?" he asked when they had emerged from the stuffy, dark atmosphere within the armory. Raazi shrugged and raised her eyebrows.

"This Masked One must be interesting person," she said. Then she opened the piece of paper. It said:

_135 Ikana Road_

_ The door with the moon and sun painted on the front_

_ Don't knock_

_ Don't scream (it may offend him)_

_ Tell him Damita needs his help and he'll do whatever you need_

Without another word, Raazi crumpled the paper back up and they made their way toward Ikana Road.

* * *

_The door with the moon and sun..._

Shad kept repeating the instructions of Damita's note in his head as he and Raazi walked along the dark cobblestone paths of Ikana Road. It wasn't actually a road—it was a network of roads, a type of labyrinth, that comprised the home of Castilia's black market and crime syndicates. Those who could help it avoided Ikana Road at all costs. Somehow, the sleazy merchants and thieves and gangsters that populated its streets managed to slither through the palms of the government time and time again, to the point that Queen Priscilda, the queen preceding Zelda, had essentially given up hope. There had never been (and never would be) actually proof that the happenings of Ikana Road were indeed illegal. So the people of Ikana Road were left to themselves, in an area of Castilia that was dank and dark and had terrible lighting and an appearance of constant night. Where people did illegal things and there was always a splatter of blood somewhere and the cats were bizarrely skinny.

Shad knew Ikana Road like the back of his hand. After all, for the past five years, he had spent every moment of his free time creating his own network here, giving himself a name and a reputation in the underground world of Hyrule's bustling, resourceful capital. After the first ten or so times, the queasy feeling of being there had faded, until he almost felt at home there. As much as he stood out, didn't seem to belong there, people still knew his face, knew his name, recognized him as someone they could (semi) trust. In the end, obviously, nobody could trust anybody. That was the way it was in Ikana Road.

_That is the way it is in Hyrule as a whole, I think. _

He wondered, glancing over at his Gerudo companion, how many times she had been to Ikana Road. It was not the safest place for Gerudo—or any half-bloods, for that matter. Racism was rampant throughout the Hylian Cities, and in Castilia in particular, and Ikana Road was a world of its own. But she seemed fairly comfortable, walking with her back straight and her chin up, staring ahead and avoiding the gazes of those who watched her walk by indignantly.

Shad knew the area that Damita had mentioned in her note, but he had never found the necessity to spend much time there. 135 Ikana Road was an offshoot of the black market—specifically, where antiques and souvenirs were sold. Mostly, the merchants there sold to other merchants who could get their rare merchandise to sell in the main markets of Castilia. Of course, the merchants in Ikana Road acquired such merchandise by theft more often than not. They had connections with thieves in the Gerudo Deserts, bandits in the Goron Mountains, pirates in the Zora Isles. The Fierce Deities did not deal very often with merchandise or souvenirs, so Shad had not been to this section of Ikana Road much.

"This is actually rather beautiful," he breathed when they turned onto 135 Ikana Road. "I had never realized it."

"Compared to the rest, perhaps," Raazi chuckled. This section was, in fact, quite different. The buildings were short, some merely booths, advertising colorful and exotic wares. The cobblestones and bricks looked somehow cleaner, the world somehow brighter. Extravagant ornaments hung from the roofs and windows of those buildings—lanterns, puppets, mobiles, chimes, anything one could think of. There was also music, which seemed to be coming from a lute of some kind, wafting through the air and giving them a sense of merriness, of being carefree. He even saw many more Gerudo and half-blooded Sheikah, blending into this area mostly populated by Hylians.

"One might not even believe that this is, in fact, part of the black market," Shad laughed, mostly to himself. Raazi smiled, but did not respond. They kept walking, looking to the right and left, examining each and every door in search of the moon and sun Damita had mentioned. There were so many, Shad realized, that they might have to walk along the street again.

"Ah, there it is," Raazi suddenly said. She walked toward a narrow, chipped wooden door. And sure enough, there was a sun and a moon painted there. But they were not like the sun and moon that one might see in the sky. Shad looked at them and shivers ran up his spine, to the point that he gripped his notebook even more tightly and felt the sweat gathering on his forehead.

The sun and moon were painted beside each other, both perfectly round. But they had eyes, noses, mouths. The sun was grinning with closed lips, its beady eyes staring blankly ahead. The moon, in contrast, was not smiling, but baring its sharp, pointed teeth, and its eyes were redder than blood. Raazi and Shad looked at each other—he with a concerned expression, she with an intrigued one.

"Well, we are not getting any older," Raazi said. "Let us go in."

"We're not getting any younger," he sighed. "It's younger."

Raazi placed her hand around the doorknob, turned it, stood still for a moment, and then pushed it open.

_Perhaps this was a bad idea. We should have just brought Damita with us._

Shad pushed up his glasses and followed Raazi through the door.

The first thing of which Shad was aware was darkness—and then loud, piercing music. It was upbeat, cheery, like the music one might hear at a carnival. But something about its loudness, its rudeness, made it eerie. He was vaguely aware of a candle flickering somewhere in the room, but the music disoriented him so much that he couldn't discern where. And then, without warning, everything became unbelievably bright...

And right in front of them was a mask. Decorated in almost every color imaginable, round, beady yellow eyes, spikes jutting out from every angle. The moment Shad saw it, he leaped backward, collided with the door, and had to cover his mouth with his palm to keep from screaming (which Damita had warned him against). The mask was hanging by a string attached to the ceiling, swinging back and forth.

"Oh, dear Farore," he sighed after he had gathered himself. Raazi, after seeing the mask, had actually stepped closer, leaned forward, smiled at this hideous face and cupped her chin in her fingers.

"Interesting," she murmured, adding a swift Gerudic phrase. Shad took a moment, now that there was light, to look around. What he saw was unlike anything he had ever seen before.

Masks...everywhere.

They lined the walls, pinned up from behind; they hung from the ceiling like raindrops suspended against the sky. Animal masks, race masks, monster masks, symbol masks, any mask that one could think of. All with their hollow eyes, staring down at him while he trembled ever so slightly and the music continued to play. Like a nightmare he never could have imagined.

"Welcome, welcome, welcome..." came a voice. Raazi and Shad began looking around in search of the voice, but the source was nowhere to be found. "You are so very fortunate to have stumbled upon such a fantastic festival."

"Festival?" Shad whispered to himself.

Then he felt a hand upon his shoulder heard a voice in his ear say, "Welcome to the Circus of Masks."

He must have jumped at least three feet in the air. He whirled around, squirmed closer to Raazi while his heart pumped harder than it ever had before. Standing at the door, appearing there by some dark magic, was a man. He was tall, skinny, lanky. But they could not see his face, for it was hidden behind a mask. A yellow Keaton mask, revealing nothing but the man's red eyes. He was eccentric, even from the start, twirling around and throwing his hands in the air and laughing such a strange laugh. Shad couldn't help but inch closer to Raazi with every passing moment.

"Circus of Masks?" Raazi said.

"Yes, my beautiful patroness, the Circus of Masks. Where masks of all types from all corners of the world come to perform for you!"

And, just like a performance, the strings attached to the ceiling began to spin, making each and every mask twirl and twirl and twirl. All while this man—the ringmaster, Shad reasoned—twirled on the ground beneath them.

"How marvelous!" Raazi laughed. Shad, of course, was not laughing. This was not at all what he had been expecting, and Shad was more accustomed to knowing how things would turn out. He did not like this. And he decided that he would rather leave sooner than later. There were too many masks, too many eyeless eyes watching him. This man...

_He's just too much for me._

"Excuse me, this is quite the, ahem, performance, but we have some matters—"

"A mask? Would you like a mask? Well, my dear patron, you have come to the right place!" the Keaton ringmaster interrupted. Before Shad could say another word, the man was grabbing masks from the walls and pulling them from their strings, then leaping toward him. Those red eyes glistening behind that yellow mask, he began putting the masks up to Shad's face. One after the other. And each one smelled different, brought on a different shade of darkness.

"St-stop that!" he cried, over the music and the sound of Raazi's laughter.

"I have every mask you could possibly imagine, anything that may suit your liking, dear patron." Finally, he relented, and the masks disappeared like magic. "And for you, beautiful patroness? Perhaps something more delicate, yes?" With a poof, a thin white mask, beautifully decorated in silver etchings, appeared in his hands. Still laughing softly, Raazi placed it in front of her face.

"What do you think, little cat?" she teased.

"I think this is nonsense," he sighed.

"Nonsense?" the ringmaster cried. "Nonsense! This is art."

He began dancing again, around in his creepy maze of masks. Raazi lifted the mask and raised her eyebrows at Shad, who had nearly grown to his limit of discomfort.

"Can you say something to him?" he whispered to her. "It seems like nothing I say will do any good."

"Very well," she nodded. "Excuse me, you are the Masked One, no?"

The man stopped in his tracks, his back to them. Shad noticed then that his hair was a vibrant indigo color reaching his shoulders. Slowly, he turned his face until he was looking at them over his shoulder.

"We are all masked ones," he said, "are we not?"

"We need your help," she continued. "A friend of ours desperately wants to speak with you."

The atmosphere in the room had suddenly changed. The masks were not twirling anymore, and the man was standing so still he might have been a statue. The music had stopped, leaving Shad feeling, in a sense, naked.

"If it is a mask he is looking for, bring him. I can cater to any of his needs in that regard," he said. His voice had grown deeper.

"Well, that's the problem," Shad interjected. "He cannot leave home for...reasons. We would like for you to come meet him."

"Sorry, I don't do house calls." His voice suddenly changed so much that Shad thought for a moment somebody else might have spoken. It transformed from grandiose, dramatic, larger-than-life, to brash, sarcastic, perhaps a bit cynical. And quite like a young man's, nothing like the ringmaster he had portrayed himself to be. "It's not like I can drag my masks anywhere I go, you know."

"It's not masks he's looking for," Shad replied.

"Well then!" the man laughed sarcastically. "I really can't be of any assistance, then, can I?"

"He specifically requested to see you—"

"Oh? He mentioned me by name, did he?"

"W-well, no."

"All right then. If you're not interested in buying any masks today, you can show yourselves out."

"Damita is the one who told us about you," Raazi suddenly said. "You know her, yes?"

The man turned all the way around until he was facing them, straight on.

"Damita sent you here?" he asked. His fingers were tugging at the bottom of his mask, as if teasing them with the prospect of seeing his face. "Can't say I've heard that name lately."

"So you do know her," Raazi grinned. "How nice."

"I know her, yes," the man said. "What does she want?"

"She requests that you come with us," Shad answered. The man was silent for a few moments, the air filled with such an odd tension. "We really do need your help—if you are, in fact, the Masked One."

"I don't know where you got that title, but I guess I'm the only who fits that description, huh?" he laughed dryly. And then, he lifted the Keaton mask from his face. His red eyes stood out against pale skin and long, indigo hair. His cheekbones were high, his jawbone angled, his smile wry. A handsome fellow, Shad decided. Though of what race, he couldn't tell. Those red eyes suggested that he was a Sheikah, but he didn't have the build of a Sheikah, nor the austere presence of a Sheikah.

"A shame to hide such a pretty face behind a mask, I think," Raazi grinned. She said it in the particular way that only she could—the way that made men's knees buckle beneath them. The Masked One gave a crooked smile, walked toward them, and lifted Raazi's hand to his lips.

"Please," he said, "call me Kafei."


	23. Secret Scars

**not much to say about this one...**

**I hope things aren't confusing for anybody, I'm trying to make it as clear as possible. But with how intricate the plot is there are bound to be lots and lots of unanswered questions at this point. sryyyyyy**

**enjoy!**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Two

Secret Scars

As it turned out, Kafei was a sarcastic, witty, rather talkative young man. On the road back to Damita's armory, he did most of the talking—which was surprising, since Shad (who was fairly silent) often times was the one who had trouble keeping his mouth shut. But he wasn't an incessant, irritating talker; he had a manner of speaking that made everything he said sound like a fantastical story. And, in a way, everything he said was a fantastical story. At least, that was how it seemed to Raazi. She had a certain ability to recognize beauty, history, in someone's words and voice. And Kafei had a very unique history. She had been able to tell immediately. As she, Kafei, and Shad maneuvered their way through Ikana Road (which Kafei seemed to know even better than Shad, if that were possible), she asked questions, and he answered.

"Where do you get your masks?" she began. The masks had intrigued her so much. In the Gerudo Deserts, she had never seen any.

"All over the world," he replied. "It's what I do."

"What do you mean?"

"Masks are an art form all their own. Just think about it this way. You can transform your entire identity, who you are, by putting a piece of plastic over your face."

"That doesn't seem like an art form to me," Shad said. "That just seems like a fanciful imagination."

"Shad, is it?" Kafei smiled, turning to him. "I take it you've never actually worn a mask."

"Perhaps as a child."

"One of these days, just put one on for a day. See how much your life changes." In response, Shad nervously fidgeted with his notebook and looked away. Raazi thought about what Kafei was saying. Truly a fascinating person, she thought. Just fascinating.

"They have these masks all over the world?" Raazi persisted.

"Sure. You just have to know where to look, who to talk to."

"I never saw a mask where I am from."

"Gerudo Deserts, I'm guessing?"

"You are right."

"Well, I have to admit, the ones from there were especially hard to find," he chuckled. "You ladies are quite...protective."

"Protective?" she repeated, raising her arched eyebrows.

"Maybe that was the wrong word. Let me rephrase. Most of the Gerudos are very practical people. Very no-nonsense. And masks definitely are not no-nonsense. But you do have them. Actually, one of my favorite masks is from Dar Al-Naariyyah."

"And which one is that?"

"It's called Kamaro's Mask," he said, lowering his voice. He crouched down a little bit, as if about to tell a terrifying, juicy secret. Raazi smiled and clasped her hands behind her back as she walked. "It belonged to a dancer. And now, anyone who wears it inherits the sacred dance she performed."

"We may not be, how you say...nonsensical," Raazi teased, "but we are rather good dancers."

"That is just silly," Shad interjected. "Something like a mask can't give you the ability to dance. It's only a mask, after all."

"And yet again, Mr. High-and-Mighty over here doubts the power of my masks," Kafei said. But he and Shad both let the subject drop after that.

"Tell me, Masked One, why do you wear a mask of a yellow animal?" she asked.

"A Keaton, you mean," he said. "And I wish you'd stop calling me that."

"Yes, a Keaton."

"No specific reason, really. My father gave me the mask when I was younger—told me that if I ever wanted people to wonder what my face looked like, I could just wear it."

"An interesting way to give a gift to a child," she mused.

"I guess. But it inspired me, you could say. And now, look at me. I've travelled the world many times over and have more masks than anyone else in Hyrule."

Raazi, after hearing this, decided to ask a rather risky question.

"You say you have travelled the world?" she began. "Have you ever been to a village called Tantari?"

"In the Gerudo Deserts?"

"Yes."

"No, I can't say that I have. I spent most of my time in Dar Al-Naariyyah when I was there because this pale skin of mine can't handle the desert very well. But the capital is a beautiful city, really."

Raazi gave a slight nod and turned away, wishing that she had never asked that question. She decided to change the subject.

"Are you from here?" she asked. "From Castilia?"

"I was born and raised here, and so was my mom. But not Dad."

"Oh? Where was he from?"

"Kakariko," Kafei said. Something changed in his demeanor. His face grew a bit darker, his smile faded.

"The city to the west, near the border with the Goron Mountains?" Shad asked. Raazi assumed he had connections there.

"That's the one."

Raazi looked closely at his face. The hair, perhaps the skin, the body-type—all relatively consistent with those of the Hylian people. But not his eyes. Such a rare red color. Deep, dramatic red.

"Your eyes are so red," she said out loud. He glanced down at her from the corner of his eye. "Your father, he was Sheikah, yes?"

"You guessed it. Hailing from the Sheikah capital itself. Now sitting in its graveyard." He put his hands in his pockets and stared up at the sky. "It's funny. Out of every place I've been, I've never actually been to Kakariko. Ironic, huh?"

Raazi smiled and followed his gaze.

"No," she replied. "Not particularly."

* * *

They had somehow managed to time their trip perfectly. By the time the three of them found themselves on the doorstep of Damita's armory, the temple's bells were striking noon, and she had closed the shop for a lunch break. Kafei opened the door with his characteristic dramatic flare, allowing Raazi and then Shad to step inside while he followed. Sure enough, the armory was empty—but Raazi could hear the footsteps upstairs. Kafei seemed like he already knew the way, though, when Raazi tried leading him to the stairwell up to Link and Damita's apartment.

"How do you know Damita?" she asked as they climbed.

"I met her when she first came to Castilia," Kafei said. "Through Telma, I think."

"Ah." She held her tongue from asking more questions, for they had reached the door to the apartment. With Kafei standing behind her and Shad with his nose in his notebook, Raazi knocked on the door.

"Come in!" they heard from within. So Raazi obeyed, with Shad and Kafei at her heels. The apartment was exactly as it had been last night, except that the door to the bedroom was closed. Raazi assumed that Link was asleep inside. Damita was standing in the corner by her punching bag while it swayed. Tufts of her silver hair fell down across her face. Raazi could smell her sweat. It was familiar.

"Well, hello there, stranger." Kafei stepped forward and bowed at the waist.

"Hello there yourself," she smiled, and began walking toward them. As soon as she and Kafei were close enough, they lifted their hands and did something strange—something that, again, Raazi had never really seen before. They clapped their hands together, intertwined their fingers in strange, incomprehensible ways, then touched their elbows and spun, ending the strange ritual with a bump of their fists to each other's.

"A handshake?" Shad huffed. "Really?"

"It's been way too long, Damita," Kafei smiled, planting a quick kiss on her cheek. "Probably a few months."

"And whose fault is that? You know I don't go to Ikana Road. But I haven't you seen at the tavern."

"I was actually travelling for a while, and I haven't really gotten the chance since I got back."

"Where'd you go this time?"

"Down to Pohoma Harbor," he answered. "There's a Zora mask I heard of down there that I wanted to check out. Didn't manage to find it, but I will soon enough."

"You and your weird obsession with masks," Damita scoffed. "Anyway, we can catch up later. So you met Raazi and Shad?"

"We've met," Shad replied. "His shop is quite...interesting."

Damita smirked at him and then walked toward the kitchen, retying her hair.

"Do you want anything, Kafei? Tea, or a biscuit, or something?"

"No, I'm okay, actually. But I would like to hear about why you sent for me."

"To be honest, we do not know the entire story," Raazi said. Then, she realized that something was missing. The man from yesterday, the strange mapmaker, was nowhere to be seen or heard. Not even his nonsensical ramblings wafted through the air.

"Kafei, you've met Link, right?" Damita asked as she removed the wraps from her hands. "My roommate?"

"Oh, yeah. Maybe once or twice at the tavern. Pretty quiet guy, if I remember correctly," Kafei said. As if by magic, his Keaton mask had reappeared in his hands, and he was fidgeting with it incessantly.

"He said someone told him to talk to you."

"Who?"

"We have no idea. He won't say anything else. He actually hasn't said a word to me since he woke up this morning," she sighed. She seemed resentful, while Kafei seemed less confused than he should have.

"All right, I guess I'll talk to him. But only because you asked so nicely," he said, throwing a wink in Raazi's direction. So amusing, she thought, even for a half-Hylian.

Shad, of course, didn't look very amused. Raazi had noticed that he had taken an almost immediate dislike to poor Kafei. Perhaps he was bitter about being frightened so much.

"He's in the bedroom. He hasn't gotten out of bed and he won't eat anything, but maybe you'll be able to help." Damita led them toward the closed door, and then knocked lightly. "Hey, Link? Kafei is here to talk to you. We're coming in, all right?"

She spoke as if to a small, sick, anxious child, afraid that the slightest word out of place might upset him. It worried Raazi a little bit. Link was not the type to be compared to a small, sick, anxious child. That was why she called him 'little wolf' instead of 'little mouse.' Damita opened the door and they all walked inside, stepping lightly.

They all paused, took a few moments to drink in what was happening in front of them. Raazi felt herself smile, while she cupped her chin in her fingers and cocked her head. Link was sitting up in bed, his hair falling in knots to his shoulders and his bare chest stained with cuts. But he was smiling a very soft, a very small smile of silent contentment. Sitting across from him, on the very same bed, was the strange little mapmaker. There were pieces of parchment spread out on the bed between them. The mapmaker was speaking, so quickly and with such excitement that Raazi (especially with her limited knowledge of Hylian) could hardly understand a word he said. He spoke and pointed to the drawings on the parchments, all while Link sat silently and listened, his eyes never leaving Tingle's red face. Raazi murmured under her breath, in her native tongue, "Quite a duo they make."

"Link? Babe?" Damita began cautiously. "Link, Kafei is here to see you."

The smile suddenly disappeared as he looked up at her and Tingle fell silent. Raazi could see it, she could sense it—something dramatic had happened inside of Link's soul in that dungeon. He had seen something, heard something, done something intensely eye-opening. She saw in the glisten of his brooding, dark eyes.

"Masked One here, at your service," Kafei announced with a bow. The mapmaker, now that he'd lost Link's attention, was rambling to himself again.

"You're the Masked One?" Link asked. "The woman with the gray skin told me to talk to you."

"I can't say I know anyone who fits that rather specific description."

Link's face remained expressionless. Damita glanced furtively at Raazi and Shad. Shad seemed disoriented with the situation, unsure how to respond other than to fix his glasses.

"She also told me to show you these." Link stood from the bed and turned so that his back was to them. Raazi narrowed her eyes and inhaled deeply. There, etched onto his back, was something she'd never seen before. On the back of his right shoulder, the symbol of Nayru tattooed in blue ink. On the back of his left shoulder, the symbol of Din tattooed in red ink. And in the middle of his back, the symbol of Farore tattooed in green ink. Tattoos that Raazi had never known existed.

"Link, old boy, how long have you had those tattoos?" Shad said, quite taken-aback.

"For as long as I can remember."

Curious, Raazi looked at the Masked One. He was staring at Link's back with a serious expression, shadowy eyes, a stick-straight posture. Finally, after a few moments of the tension, Kafei spoke.

"Where did you meet this person?" he asked stoically.

"The dungeons of Hyrule Castle. She told me to tell you that I'm the Scarred One."

"All right. You can turn around." Link obeyed. They watched with bated breath as Kafei reached into his pocket and pulled out a rolled up piece of parchment—which didn't seem like it should have fit in there. And then, with a flare of his wrist, a mask appeared in his other hand. One that Raazi knew she hadn't seen in his circus.

"Take these," he said. Link took the two items. He didn't ask any questions, and Kafei seemed to have been expecting that. Raazi leaned back against the wall and pursed her lips, watched as indifferently as possible as the scene unfurled. Link's gaze flitted over to her for a moment, and when it did, she blinked a single time. A silent sign of support, a way to say she would stand behind him, as insane as he believed himself to be. Because she knew he wasn't insane. She always knew, and he knew that she always knew. Then he looked away.

"Kafei, what—?" Damita began, but she stopped when Kafei bowed for what seemed like the tenth time, again in Link's direction. He stayed in that position for a few heavy moments, filled with the ramblings of the mapmaker, while Damita furrowed her brow and Shad looked around anxiously and Raazi tinkered with her hoop earrings. She murmured a few incantations.

"With that, I take my leave," he said. The ringmaster turned on his heel and walked straight toward the front door, as if he were the only person in the room. But before he disappeared from the apartment, he called back, "I'll try to be at the tavern more. See you later, Damita." They all stood in their exact same positions, wondering if Kafei had ever really been there. If they had just imagined the whole thing. Raazi couldn't stop smiling. Link stood with the two items in his hands, staring down at them blankly.

"I like the Masked One," Raazi said. "He carries history."

"And a lot of masks," Shad added. Damita didn't say anything. She was chewing on her fingernails and staring at Link with narrowed eyes.

"Link?" she finally said. He looked up. Raazi raised her chin to get a better look at the mask he had been given. She recognized it from some of the storybooks she had read, could pinpoint its description based on stories she had heard.

It was a Fierce Deity mask—a mask of he after whom their mercenary group was named.


	24. Sick in Bed

**yayyyyy idk why it took me so long to upload this probably college oh yeah**

**enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Three

Sick in Bed

Karis didn't even bother lying down in bed that night. He didn't blow out the candle, either. His brain was whirring too viciously, the thoughts running too rampantly, for him to rest his aching bones. He was on his feet, pacing back and forth in his room, opening the window and then closing it again for fear that the wind would make him too chilly. But, then again, he was sweating more than usual. He took off his shirt and let it float to the ground. And, as always, he avoided catching his reflection in the mirror by the door. Karis always hated seeing himself, for the image there in front of him shattered the image he had of himself in his mind: of being strong, of being healthy, of being worthy of something. Anything. He decided, then, chilly and hot at the same time, hair wild and unkempt, eyes bloodshot, that the only thing for him to do was write.

He grabbed the melting candle by his nightstand and moved it to his desk. He eased into the chair, flipped open his leather-bound notebook to the first open page, and dipped his quill into the ink. The first thing he did was write the date. For future reference, of course.

_Zelda is angrier than usual. A prisoner escaped the dungeons yesterday. I met him. His name is Link, and he is quite beautiful. He has very messy, blonde hair and piercing blue eyes, and he looked at me in a way that made me feel something in the deepest recesses of my soul. What that something is, I have not decided yet. But I feel a connection to him. We are both trapped, running around in the palm of Zelda's hands trying in vain to find an escape from her claw-like fingers. I gave him the hairpin my mother gave to me and told him to go. I hope he is safe, and I hope that Zelda does not find him. If I cannot save myself, I would like to believe that I at least saved him. _

_ Sheik has been acting strange ever since his return. In fact, I have not seen him very often. Usually I can find him sulking about in the castle, playing pranks on the maids or telling jokes with the cooks. But even in the gardens, I couldn't find him. I see him in the shadows every now and then, we exchange passing words, but he is not himself. Not since bringing Link in to the dungeons. Perhaps he gets the same, uneasy feeling that I did when I saw him for the first time. Sheik and I are similar in a lot of ways—perhaps this is one of them. A sensitivity to character, I could call it. _

_ I think Sheik knows that I am the one responsible for Link's escape. But I know he will not tell Zelda. I trust him. _

Just then, there was a knock on the door, pulling Karis from his thoughts, from his papers, and back to reality. He paused for a moment, unable to truly register that someone was at the door. But then the knock came again. Karis scrambled to his feet, tried to find his shirt in the darkness, but a voice came from the door that calmed his nerves.

"Karis, it's just me."

He stopped looking for his shirt.

Standing at his door, waiting patiently, was Sheik himself. Karis smiled and asked what he was doing at his door this late at night, and dressed as he was. He had a dramatic billowing cloak, beneath which he wore blue and purple fabric fitted to his skin perfectly—outlined every bone, every rippling muscle. Even his hands were wrapped in frayed, gray cloth. Overtop his chest was a white piece of fabric with the Sheikah eye painted in vibrant red. Covering his nose and mouth, pressed so tightly that Karis could see his lips moving when he spoke, was more cloth, and the same material was wrapped around the top of his head. Tufts of tangled blond hair peeked out and fell over his eyes, and over his shoulder he had draped his long braid, with the metal pin at the end.

"I...I came to say goodbye."

Karis's heart fell to his knees, and he ushered Sheik inside after making sure the hallway was clear. Things being the way they were (Karis being the way he was), it was hard for him at the castle. People looked at him with a mixture of envy and sympathy, wondering just what kind of person he was for the queen to choose him. Even while some days, he could hardly get out of bed. He didn't have many friends. But Sheik was his friend. Sheik had been his friend ever since Karis had become a member of the court. A way to fill his void created by loneliness.

To watch him walk away was truly crushing, he thought. More so than any physical disability. Karis felt his knees becoming weak while he helped Sheik out of his cloak, hung it on the back of the door, and dropped down to the bed before his legs gave out on him. He stared unflinchingly at Sheik, who had his arms crossed and looked as if he could begin pacing at any moment, but remained still.

"Where are you going?" Karis wondered if his voice sounded as broken to Sheik as it did to himself. There on the bed, letting the hair fall across his face, Karis clasped his hands together and continued watching.

"Everywhere, I guess," he shrugged. His eyes, Karis noticed, were avoiding his gaze.

"So you'll be a while."

Sheik sighed and, finally, sat down on the bed beside Karis. As if he had been waiting an eternity, and then finally succumbed to the demonic temptation. His silhouette was outlined in perfect orange shadows from the candle flickering behind him. When Sheik sat down, Karis felt as if the whole bed had moved—had shaken, into a different dimension entirely. One in which separation was somehow beautiful, the sadness of goodbyes empowering. He felt strength in his limbs, the kind of strength he had not felt in what seemed like ages. The closeness of it all, the semi-darkness of the room, the absolute silence surrounding their short breaths, was like fresh air to Karis. He closed his eyes for a moment and breathed it all in.

"Yeah," Sheik said. "I'll be a while."

"Are you going to come back?" Karis wasn't sure why those words had slipped from his lips, but they had. Sheik raised his eyebrows and like a reflex, reached up and lowered the cloth from his mouth. To reveal a smile. His face was soft, delicate, but strong and powerful. All at once. An incredible sight, Karis thought.

"Of course. I mean, that's the plan, but I guess nobody can tell the future, huh?"

Karis nodded, smiling back as well as he could. It was a shaky smile, even he could tell. Trembling from the drama, the emotion, the dread building up inside of him. He was beginning to imagine his life in the castle, alone with the voices and stares. Beginning to imagine his life inside the castle without his best friend, without his rock, without the one thing that had been keeping him sane through this nightmare of life.

"Come on, Kar, don't look so down," he said. His voice had renewed energy—an energy, Karis knew, that was meant to be uplifting for him. And then Sheik did something remarkable. Something, perhaps, unremarkable and instinctive to him. But remarkable to Karis, regardless. Remarkable and enlightening. He reached over and put his hand over Karis's, clasped there in his lap. "I'll come back. And I'll write. As often as I can."

"You can't promise you'll come back, you know," Karis pointed out with a grin. His hands felt like fire and ice at the same time, pushing and pulling with intensity and numbness. He realized then how picturesque, like a painting made specifically for Karis, Sheik's silhouette looked. His red eyes glistening, his smile penetrating every corner of the darkness.

"I know. Promises are dangerous."

Karis chuckled at this interesting choice of words. Dangerous, yes. Impossible, more so. Of all people, Karis truly understood how uncertain the future was. How susceptible to change.

"You can hold down the fort while I'm gone, right, kiddo?" Sheik added.

"As long as I let the fort hold me down."

"Well—"

"Things will worsen," he continued, "and I'll get sicker. But there is only one thing of which I can be certain."

"What's that?"

"That whatever is meant to be will be."

"As eloquent as ever." Sheik's smile softened, and his hand felt lighter on top of Karis's. He acknowledged at that moment that Sheik's touch, so insignificant and simple, had been sustaining him throughout that conversation. Reassuring him that somehow, he would survive. That he would receive letters from Sheik and read them, respond to them, do what was asked of him while Sheik did the same (most likely from across the kingdom).

Karis leaned forward a bit, so that he could see the look in Sheik's eyes in more detail. With the red ink, painted with such precision above and below his eyes. The way the corners of his thin, pale pink lips turned up into the slight, compassionate smile there. The shadows and spots of light drawn on his cheeks, highlighting the points and angles and straightness of his bones beneath the skin. So close, Karis could have sworn he saw the breath slipping through his mouth.

"Karis," he said. "Thank you."

"For?" Karis's voice was at a whisper. Sheik squeezed his hands then. With gratitude seeping through his fingers.

"Being my best friend. I needed someone like that."

The words filled Karis's heart to the brim, made it easier for him to breathe, easier to feel. The emotions swirling in the air around them, the heat rising through every bone of his often chilled body. Karis slipped one of his hands from Sheik's grasp, leaned in closer, and slowly, slowly, slowly, brought his hand up. Closer and closer until his fingertips just barely brushed the corner of Sheik's right eye. Sheik remained completely still, now staring unwaveringly into Karis's eyes. They were so close that Karis could tell Sheik had stopped breathing.

"You're welcome, Sheik."

His fingertips were still hovering above Sheik's cheeks, as if dancing atop flames, afraid that if they got too close, they might burn. Karis closed his eyes and lightly, patiently, gently, pressed his lips to Sheik's. He tried with every fiber of his being to imprint that moment in his memory, the perfection of it, the release he felt within his soul. The way Sheik's lips, still and hesitant, felt beneath his. The way his skin seemed to tingle beneath his taunting fingers. The way he could see the light of the candle even through the darkness of his eyelids.

Karis felt as if he were floating, even when he pulled back. He opened his eyes just slightly, kept his face close and his fingertips hovering. Sheik's hand was still in Karis's lap, shaking almost unnoticeably, and his eyes were open. Not wide in surprise or repulsion, as Karis had feared (but had he really?). They were simply open, sparkling like blood, watching Karis's face. Sheik's lips were parted, he had begun breathing again, but his entire body trembled. While Karis was still, accepting, proud of his bravery. Then, as if there was an irresistible string connecting their minds together, Karis leaned his forehead to Sheik's. He could feel his blonde hair mingling with his own blue hair, making the beads of sweat gathering there flow down his temples.

Without a word, Sheik leaned his face into Karis's palm, until it fit there like a puzzle piece. The edges of their parted, exhaling lips brushing, their breath warm and together, Karis's eyes closed and Sheik's eyes delicately open.

"Karis—"

"Please don't say anything."

They were murmuring now. Quietly.

This time, it was Sheik. He pressed his open mouth to Karis's, pushed against his forehead, touched his bare, vulnerable neck. His breathing was passionate, his tongue desperate, his fingers incessant. It was like an electric shock through Karis's body, in a way both terrifying and thirst-quenching. He felt at that moment that he might be cured from his illness, free to live his life; but he also felt that this kiss, this embrace, the candle on his desk in the corner, might drain his waning life completely and leave him but a shell there on the bed. He felt himself swaying back and forth between these two overwhelming sensations. Perfect bliss, and flawless terror.

It seemed then, as Sheik pulled and kissed and squeezed, that there was something urgent in him. Karis could feel it in the air, in his touch. It was not a good emotion to feel, not a good, healthy urgency. One propelled by daunting fear.

"Sheik, wait."

Gently, Karis placed his palms against Sheik's chest and pushed him back. Just until he could open his mouth and speak, be aware of his own breath rather than two breaths combined to one. Be aware of his own weak but quick heartbeat. Sheik let himself fall back, but not much. He stayed close enough that his lips grazed Karis's cheek, his breath fell into Karis's ear. But he didn't speak. He didn't respond. He didn't need to. Karis's hands fell back into his lap, for even in the midst of his rampant passions and elation, it felt like the right thing to do.

"This is goodbye, remember?" he whispered.

After a few moments of silence and awful stillness, he felt Sheik nod. Then they were separated, sitting once more beside each other on the bed in a strange, cordial manner. Karis imagined that Sheik's face was red, but of course, he couldn't tell in the darkness.

"This is goodbye," Sheik repeated with an unconvincing smile. In an attempt to strengthen him, as Karis felt he had been strengthened, Karis smiled back as heartily as he could.

"Not forever," he said. Sheik stood up, nodded.

"Here's to hoping."

Just before he returned the cloth to its position over his nose and mouth, Sheik bent down and placed a kiss on Karis's forehead. A final remnant, something for Karis to remember him by. Something elegant and simple and lovely—just lovely.

"Hey, Kar," Sheik said as he put on his cloak.

"Yes?"

"You're strong. The strongest person I know. So don't...don't die while I'm gone, okay? Keep fighting."

Sheik opened the door, ready to disappear into the night. Karis looked after him, hardly able to maintain his smile any longer.

"Same to you, Sheik," he said. "Please don't die."

And then he was gone, and Karis was left alone in a castle full of people with his candle, his notebook, and the touch of Sheik's lips on his forehead.


	25. Bedtime Story

**This one's hella long with lots of dialogue but yay storytime**

**love forever and always**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Four

Bedtime Story

They were all sitting in a circle in the center of Link and Damita's apartment, equidistant from one another. Link, Damita, Shad, Raazi, Vukan, Anowaika, and Tingle, sitting in the middle of the night with nothing but a candle to illuminate the darkness. There was a tension in the air, one that Link could feel as if it were actually tangible. He didn't mind the tension so much. It wasn't something that he usually minded. But he could tell that Shad minded, and Anowaika minded—and Tingle seemed completely oblivious to everything. But Link, he didn't mind. (In fact, he understood that he was most likely the source of the tension.)

In the center of their circle was some kind of chart, rolled out and pinned straight with various objects that they had gathered from around the room. It was the chart that Kafei had given Link earlier that day, without any explanation. Link hadn't asked for one because he hadn't found it necessary. He figured simply seeing its contents would explain. Unfortunately, the contents of the chart were impossible to read. Strange illustrations covered the page in a seemingly random order, and phrases (not a language any Hylian, Sheikah, Gerudo, Zora, or Goron could understand) lined the borders of the page like a picture frame. Link was at a complete loss. He sat with his legs crossed and his elbows on his knees, his chin resting on his hands, staring with narrowed eyes at this meaningless sheet in front of him.

In the darkness, he liked the way that the shadows played on his comrades' faces. Even while they looked at each other (and at him, their 'fearless leader') for some sense of what was happening.

"...Shad?" Damita began, but he immediately began shaking his head.

"Unfortunately, I can't understand this at all," he sighed. "I've never even seen that language before."

"And none of those illustrations look familiar to any of us, I don't think," Anowaika added. Vukan agreed with a slight nod of his massive head.

"Why would Kafei give you this anyway?" Damita mused, chewing on her nails. Link avoided their eyes and just stared at the paper. He hated admitting that he wasn't sure what to do or where to go. The words of that woman in the dungeon echoed in his ears, but he couldn't understand why she would have led him astray. He couldn't understand why Kafei, who in some shape or form had been expecting to meet Link one day, would give him a chart that he couldn't even understand.

And then, as if he had only been waiting for the right moment, Tingle let out an excited burst of laughter and raised his hand.

"Tingle can read it," he said. "Tingle is very good with maps."

Everyone fell back into silence and looked to each other. Link stared at the strange little man he had dragged with him from the dungeons of Hyrule Castle, recalled the incredible things he knew about maps. For him, it was an art form, it seemed—an entire language in which he was the only fluent speaker.

"It seems that this person in the dungeons," Raazi began slowly, "expected all to happen. She knew about the chart, knew you would not read it, and knew little mapmaker would be able to." When she shifted her position to look more closely at the chart, her mountains of jewelry jingled, breaking the strange silence that hung in the air. It was a familiar sound, comforting to Link.

"Tingle?" Shad said with a nod. "Will you redraw this chart for us? In a way that we can, ahem, understand?"

"Tingle will do this, yes, Tingle will do this for his friends," he nodded vigorously, while wisps of hair stuck up from his peeling scalp. "But he will only do this if his friends give him something in return."

_Of course,_ Link jeered.

"What do you want, runt?" Damita scoffed.

"Not much," he replied with a childish pout. "But...Tingle needs somewhere to sleep and eat and poop while he looks for his fairy friends..."

Link held back his smirk as he saw Damita's face drain of color.

"If you let Tingle stay with you, pretty fairy lady, Tingle will read this map for you. Free of charge! This is a true deal, pretty fairy lady."

"You want to stay here? In my house?" she repeated, as if she hadn't understood.

"Tingle will be no trouble. Tingle promises. Tingle will not steal anymore. Tingle only needs food and a place to sleep and a place to poop."

Damita looked at Link with a desperate glint in her green eyes, but he was in no position to offer advice. After all, within the next few days, he would no longer be her roommate. He would no longer be a resident of Castilia at all—in fact, within the next few days, Link would probably be far, far away. So he did what he thought was the best thing to do and gave her a short nod. And, in response and out of the gaze of the others, he saw her stick up her middle finger at him. He almost burst into laughter.

"Fine, fine, you can stay here," she said. "But not long, all right?"

"Yes, yes, of course! Thank you, pretty fairy lady, thank you!" Tingle cried. His voice was shrill with elation, while he clapped his hands together and bowed his head over and over and over. Link could see that nearly all the members of the group were stifling their own laughter. "Give Tingle some paper and ink and Tingle will draw out map for you."

"Such a strange hobby," Raazi observed softly. "Drawing maps."

Vukan, with his long arms, reached over to the unkempt desk in the corner and grabbed a blank parchment and quill. Tingle took them anxiously, laid them out in front of them and lay down on his stomach. As if he were a child, preparing to paint the most beautiful picture. Link had truly never met a more fascinating person than this cartographer, imprisoned because of his petty habits of theft.

"Koolooh, limpah," he murmured under his breath. Over, and over, and over, and over again, that same, nonsensical phrase, while he drew out the map. He scribbled furiously, all while they sat in their circle, looking at each other and feeling comfort in each other's company. Raazi and Shad sat back to back, leaning against one another; every couple moments, Anowaika would stretch up to whisper something in Vukan's ear; Link and Damita were taking turns making faces at each other. Somehow, in the midst of what could only be deemed a terrible situation (after a terrible day, in Link's case), they were happy together.

Of course, it was only because for the moment, Link was suppressing the emotions tumbling and turning inside him. After what had happened in the dungeons, everything had changed. Everything had changed significantly—he could feel it in his bones, in his very skin. Something in this chart, something in what the woman in the dungeons had said, was about to reveal something bigger than life itself. Link felt his forgotten history running to catch up with him, felt his mysterious tattoos burning against his skin, felt his way of life beginning to crumble.

Although, if he was being honest with himself, it was a welcome change.

Perhaps he'd finally be able to do something about the terrible state Hyrule was in. About the black-hearted queen and her soul-crushing iron fist—the queen that had looked Link in the eyes and revealed some hidden part of her, a piece of his own identity within her tar soul. It gave him chills thinking that she held the secrets to his life. He had seen hatred in her eyes. It was frightening, he thought, to know that someone so powerful hated you, and not truly knowing why. For he knew it wasn't because of his troublemaking in the capital. The hatred he had seen was too passionate for that.

_It's scary when someone you despise probably knows more about you than you do._

After a while sitting there, contemplating everything and staring into space, Tingle let out a cry and held up the piece of paper, making everyone jump.

"Tingle is finished! And Tingle's map is just beautiful," he smiled broadly. He laid it down on top of the original chart and, lo and behold, it was perfectly readable. Just like any other map one might encounter. Link threw Tingle a crooked smile of approval, while Shad scrambled to his knees to get a closer look and Damita scoffed. Anowaika smiled widely, and Vukan, as always, looked stony and unimpressed.

"A true cartographer if there ever was one," Shad nodded, his eyes scanning the map. Link recognized the shape as that of Hyrule, with its four separate parts—the Hylian Cities in the north, Zora Isles to the south, Goron Mountains to the west, and Gerudo Deserts to the east. Once upon a time, in an era that had ended ten years before his birth, each part lived separately, working together in peace. It wasn't like that anymore. Zelda controlled it all. From the north to the south, the east to the west. But it was still nice, he mused, seeing them all drawn so separately like that.

"Yes, Tingle is very good with maps," the strange man nodded. Link then began to notice smaller details of the map. Tingle had drawn in mountain ranges, rivers, valleys, borders, cities, everything. And scattered in different areas of the map were small triangles. Eight in total—two per region. In each corner, Tingle had drawn the Triforce. It was the symbol of the Royal Family, had been for centuries. Link hated the sight of it.

"I don't get it," Damita said. "I mean, I know it's a map of Hyrule, but what do the little triangles mean?"

"I was just wondering the same thing," Ano added, her face like a small child's, lost in thought. Link looked to Raazi, wondering what strange addendum she would have this time. Strange addendums were her talent. But she was silent. She wasn't even looking at the map.

"Look at this." Shad pointed to a phrase written at the very top of the chart. Link looked more closely and realized that it was in Ancient Hylian—a language that he, of course, had never learned.

But he could read it anyway.

"To—" Shad began. He was the only one who knew Ancient Hylian.

But Link interrupted him.

"To scarred, battered, bruised; to pure of heart and strong of body; shattered shards are your birthright; courage makes them one," he murmured. Shad froze, and then looked up at him with his brow furrowed.

"Link," he began quietly, "how did you read that?"

To distract himself from his own questions, Link took the ponytail out of his hair and started to retie it.

"I don't know," he replied. "I just did."

"You never told us that you know Ancient Hylian," Ano smiled. "That's really cool."

"I didn't know that I knew it." Link stretched his arms out and crossed them behind his head. Licorice would have been very nice. Or a pile of hay to sleep on. "Don't know what it means. Sounds like a riddle to me."

"You're not bad with riddles though," Ano smiled. Link smiled his crooked smile back.

"This one's a bit out of my league."

"Tingle cannot help with riddles," Tingle added, frazzled and anxious. "Tingle can only help with maps."

"Shad? Any ideas?" Ano asked. Shad finally ripped his incredulous gaze from Link's face and directed it back to the chart. He stared for a few minutes, silently. Only then did Raazi move from her position and glance over his shoulder at the chart. At that point, it seemed that Damita had grown restless, so she stood from the circle and began to pace. Link liked watching her pace. It helped calm him, too.

"You're all going to think me daft, but I do have an idea," Shad sighed.

"I do as well," Raazi said. "Perhaps you will begin, little cat?"

"Very well then. Let's begin with the symbol—the Triforce. Do you all know exactly what it means?"

"I always thought it was just a symbol of the Hylian Royal Family," Anowaika said.

"It is, yes, but it is much more than a mere symbol. Legend has it that the Triforce was left by the three goddesses—Din, Nayru, and Farore—after they created Hyrule and ascended back into the sky."

"All right, but what is it, exactly?" Damita asked.

"It is a sacred relic, a container for the balance of the world. It is the world's source of power and harmony. It is made of three stacked triangles, each containing an essence of a goddess. The top represents power, the left wisdom, and the right courage. So if anyone were to obtain this Triforce—"

"They would be all powerful?" she finished. She was standing with her hands on her hips, head tilted skeptically.

"So to speak. Obtaining the Triforce essentially means omnipotence for the person that obtains it. But according to Sheikah legends, if someone with an unbalanced heart tries to obtain it—for example, has a heart full of more power than wisdom or courage—then the Triforce will split into its three components. The one who tried to take it will only obtain the part that they believe in the most. For example, if I were to try and obtain the Triforce, I would most likely only obtain the Triforce of Wisdom, since that is what I believe in most of the three."

"What happens to the Triforce of Courage and Power?" Ano asked. Her eyes were wide and her voice was low, glistening with intrigue in the story. Link could not feel the same elation. In fact, he felt sick to his stomach.

"Well, according to these same legends, the other two parts will be bestowed upon individuals chosen by the goddesses to protect them. Furthermore, these individual Triforces have potencies of their own. The one with the Triforce of Power, for example, will have unimaginable power; the same concept applies to wisdom and courage."

"All right, what does that all mean, though?" Damita pressed. Patience was not one of her virtues, and she had started pacing again.

"I'm almost finished, darling. These legends contain one more vital piece of information. Long ago, they say an evil thief did, in fact, try to obtain the Triforce from its hiding place in the Sacred Realm—heaven, if you will. But his heart was terribly unbalanced, so while he took the Triforce of Power for his own, the other two shards were sent to two individuals chosen by the goddesses themselves. One, the holder of the Triforce of Courage, was destined to become the Hero that would vanquish the evil thief who threatened the very balance of the world."

"So the evil thief had power, the hero had courage...where did wisdom go?" Ano asked.

Shad swallowed and dabbed at the beads of sweat on his forehead.

"There is no way to prove this, of course, but I've heard rumors and legend dictates it, as well. The Triforce of Wisdom, it is said, was bestowed upon a matriarch of the Royal Family centuries ago, when the interloper attempted to the take the Triforce."

"Queen Zelda's ancestors, you mean?" Damita finished. Shad nodded. "What happens when the person with the Triforce dies?"

"Legend says that their soul is reincarnated in the next generation, and their Triforce is transferred to this reincarnation."

"So Princess Zelda the First or whatever has her Triforce and dies—and then Princess Zelda the Second has her Triforce and dies—and it just goes on like that down the line?"

"Yes. Either that, or the person with the Triforce willingly gives their Triforce to another soul willing to receive it. There is also the possibility that the bearer of the Triforce doesn't even know that they bear it."

"What a cool legend," Ano gushed.

"Well, it is a legend," Shad said. "There is no way to prove that it's true—"

"Make no mistakes," Raazi interrupted. All eyes were on her. "The legend is true."

"H-how do you know, Raaz?" Ano said. Link did not want to hear her answer. He knew where this story was going. The Triforces drawn on the chart were laughing at him now. Staring up from the page and taunting him.

"Our Gerudo King, centuries ago, was this...thief. The one who took the Triforce of Power, as little cat said."

"He was a Gerudo king?"

"Yes. We have many stories of him. The name, of course, has been lost. But his story remains. Like what you Hylians call a bedtime story."

"Will you tell us?" Ano asked. She blinked, smiled. "Please?" The candle made the shadows dance on Raazi's face incessantly, made her eyes look dark and her smile even more mysterious than usual.

"Long ago, on a cold desert night, a Gerudo king was born. He was raised to believe in the goodness of people and peace. But as he grew older, he saw unfairness. His people were left in the deserts to...what is this phrase...defend themselves. Not very much food or water, you see. It was a difficult life. Too much death, he thought. But he looked to the lands to the west, to Hyrule and its people. He saw...how you say...prosperity. Once he heard about the Triforce, he wanted it, to gain power and wisdom and courage to help his people. But the thought of it drove him insane, for he became greedy. So greedy that when he tried to take Triforce, it split into three parts. The Gerudo king fought to take the other two parts for seven long years...but finally, the Hero and the Princess vanquished him. He passed his Triforce of Power on, again and again, to Gerudo kings that came after."

"Raazi, how do you know that all of that is true? Like you said, it was a bedtime story for you," Shad asked. Raazi raised her eyebrows at him.

"The history of Gerudos would be much different if this story were not true, little cat," she said. And she left it at that.

"So, assuming this legend is true, there are people in Hyrule right now who have these pieces of the Triforce." Damita stopped pacing and bit her nails for a few moments before continuing. "The current Gerudo king has power, the queen has wisdom, and this mysterious hero has courage. Right?"

"Well, yes. The reincarnation of this hero," Shad corrected.

"Right, right, whatever. We get the story now, but what's the point? What does it have to do with this map?"

"I was getting to that," Shad said quietly. But he looked very nervous. And when he turned his attention to Link, his own heart dropped. He clenched his fists, as discreetly as possible.

_Nobody but Damita knows about the scar,_ he comforted. _Nobody but Damita and the gray-skinned woman in the dungeon. _

"Even though the Triforce is split into three separate parts, each part can be split even further. A bearer of the Triforce, in order to protect it, could split it into various shards, making it nearly impossible for it to fall into the wrong hands."

And then, without Shad having to say anything else, they all understood. Looking at the small triangles drawn on the chart, they knew what Shad was suggesting. But Raazi was the brave soul who decided to say it out loud.

"One of the Triforces has been split. This chart shows where each piece is."

"Precisely, my dear," Shad said softly. "Precisely."

"Why did Kafei give this to Link?" Damita said. She was speaking through clenched teeth.

"Focus, little bird, focus," Raazi said. "Look at the phrase at the top again. Say it again, Link."

He hoped his voice wouldn't crack.

"To scarred, battered, bruised; to pure of heart and strong of body; shattered shards are your birthright; courage makes them one."

"And what did you say to the Masked One?"

"I told him I was the Scarred One."

More silence, except for the ramblings of a now nonsensical Tingle. The world was spinning a little bit.

"Shad, you forgot one part of the story," Raazi said. But her eyes were glued to Link's. Unflinching, striking to his very core. The flame of the candle flickered. "The mark of the Triforce can be seen on the hands of those who hold them."

"Ah, yes. Apologies."

"Little wolf, give me your left hand," she said.

"No."

"Link."

"Holy shit," Damita gasped, finally understanding. "You don't mean..."

"Give me your hand." Raazi held out her arm, waiting. From the look on her face, Link concluded that she would wait forever, so he spared her and put his left hand into hers. Swiftly, she took off the glove that was there—always there—and ran her fingers along the skin of the back of his hand. Everybody had brought their head closer and was staring at his skin. Where the triangle-shaped scar was (and had always been, as far as he could remember).

"Oh my goddesses," Shad breathed. He sat back on his heels and Anowaika, afraid that he might pass out, put her fins on his shoulders to steady him.

"You understand, yes?" Raazi said. "Link once held a Triforce. The Triforce of Courage. But he split it into eight different...shards? Yes, that is the word, shards. Eight different shards. This map is his key to regaining the shards and regaining the Triforce."

"But if Link is the bearer of the Triforce of Courage...doesn't that mean he's the reincarnation of the hero?" Anowaika said, cautiously.

Raazi's smile at that moment made Link's blood run cold, and he remembered what had happened in the dungeons with Queen Zelda. The way her fury had risen up when she had seen his hand, the way she'd said, "I wanted to see the look in your eyes when I ripped it from your soul." He hadn't known what "it" meant. He hadn't had the slightest idea.

"Yes," she whispered, "that is exactly what it means."

_A hero? _

_ Not the word I would use to describe myself. _

"I don't remember having the Triforce," he said. "And I don't remember splitting it up, or whatever."

"You do not have to. The evidence is here on your skin. And in those tattoos. They are spiritual tattoos."

"I don't believe in the goddesses. So how could I be their divine hero?" he spat.

"Maybe you did believe in them once," she offered. "I cannot speak for them. They are the goddesses, and will choose as they choose. But I can tell you what I know. And what I know is that your time has come to reclaim what is yours."

_What is mine..._

"Your time has come to reclaim the Triforce of Courage."

Link was about to open his mouth and reject it. To say that he didn't want to be some kind of hero, that he didn't want this Triforce of Courage, that, maybe, he didn't care about reclaiming his lost memories. Didn't care about who he was before. Only cared about who he was at that moment—a mercenary fighting by the skin of his teeth to do what he believed was right. A rebel, a murderer. Not a hero.

But then he remembered the woman in the dungeon who had stolen his memories.

And he remembered the determination in Zelda's eyes.

"Zelda is looking for it," he said. "That's why she wanted me."

"What?" Raazi, Shad, Ano, and Damita said in unison.

"She's going to go looking for it." They all looked at each other. (Surely wondering if Link had, in fact, gone insane in those dungeons.) He ran his hands along his face and rubbed his eyes, hoping that perhaps he would wake up from a dream. "I'm not saying I believe in all this...I'm not saying I want to be those goddesses' hero. But if it means keeping whatever it is out of Zelda's hands, then I have to do it."

"If I am understanding you correctly, you're saying that you want to find these shards?" Shad said. Link nodded wordlessly.

"It was fate that you met gray-skinned woman in the dungeons, yes?" Raazi winked.

"I don't believe in fate."

"Ah yes," she laughed. "I almost forgot."

"I have to move fast."

Shad descended into his mind for about a minute, eyes closed, and then he opened them and stared down at the map again. When he spoke, his voice was deep and smooth, focused in a way that meant he was as serious as serious could be.

"Give me tomorrow. I can have a plan for you by tomorrow night. Let me have the map—I will tell you where to go, who to see, what to do to get to these shards, if they exist. If you are determined, that is. I know people all over Hyrule who are doing their own work to rebel. I have a network of allies I can tap into. And I know someone in Ikana that can get you fake papers by tomorrow, as well. Just give me until then. You can leave tomorrow night."

He nodded to Shad with a grateful little smile. The most he could manage at that point.

"Wait, you're actually going through with this?" Damita cried. "You've gotta be kidding me, Link."

He looked up at her and shook his head.

"There's no way I can stay in Castilia, anyway. And I have to know if it's true or not. 'Cuz if it is, and we let Zelda have the Triforce..." He decided not to finish his sentence. He figured they could all imagine the terror on their own.

"Well, you're definitely not doing it alone," Anowaika said. She stood up then, hands on her hips. Vukan accordingly stood up, as well. "We're coming with you."

"What?" he replied, completely taken aback.

"C'mon, you didn't think we'd let you travel all around Hyrule by yourself, did you? We deserve to have some fun, too," she winked. "I've never been outside Castilia, you know. And besides, two of those shards are in the Zora Isles. I've always dreamed of going back home and seeing it for myself."

"Not to mention, it will be nearly impossible alone," Raazi added. "You know nothing about Gerudo Deserts or Zora Isles or Goron Mountains. You will need help, no?"

"No."

"They do have a point. It would be reckless alone," Shad said.

"You'll need your friends there," Ano smiled.

"I don't—"

"If you're worried about holding down the fort here, don't be," Damita said. When he looked at her, he saw resignation, acceptance, some twisted kind of support in her eyes. "Shad and I can handle things. Neither of us is a fighter, so we'll stay here and keep the fire going. All right?"

He wasn't sure what to say. He wasn't sure how to say it. All he could think was how bizarre it was that his entire life had changed so much in the span of one hour. Suddenly he was going to be travelling across Hyrule in search of things he wasn't even sure existed.

_Maybe it's time I figured out who I really am._

"All right," he finally conceded. "The four of us will go."

"Very well. Will you all be ready by tomorrow, midnight, to depart?" Shad asked. At that point, he was all business. Vukan, Anowaika, and Raazi nodded. "Tie up any loose ends. You'll surely be gone for a long time. Let us meet tomorrow...where?"

"The stables outside the city," Link said without hesitation.

"Very well then, the stables. I will come by here to give you the fake papers before then, give you the game plan, and...well, say goodbye, I suppose."

_Goodbye._

"Why don't you all go get some sleep?" Shad suggested. "Tomorrow is bound to be a long day."

All Link could hear now were Raazi's words, echoing in his mind.

_"Your time has come to reclaim the Triforce of Courage." _

_My time has come. _


	26. Child of Her Sisters

**weeeeeeee chappie 25**

**raaave**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Five

Child of Her Sisters

Sheik had always hated the dungeons. They held within their walls a certain darkness—even darker than that thing that had long ago replaced his soul. The screams and the moans and the grimy old bricks sent shivers down his spine, as accustomed as he was to those same emotions. As accustomed as he was to feeling such disturbia within himself. But Sheik, in his cape and his hood and the orders of his queen ringing in his ears, had to go down there yet again. He had to follow the orders of Zelda on the pain of death. Or worse, the pain of acknowledging disloyalty to that which he had sworn to defend and protect and obey. He smirked to himself at that thought. So very ironic, the progression of events, it seemed. He walked very close to the walls, a habit that he had developed over the past twelve years. When he was alone, he walked where there was the most darkness. It only felt natural that way. And he tried very hard not to think about his destination.

_Every bad thing I have ever done in my life is coming back to haunt me in this very moment, I'd say._

But he continued walking, as if there were strings wrapped around his ankles and pulling him. One step, and then another. One step, and then another. Down these dungeon halls that he somehow knew so well, so well that it frightened even him. He had learned to block out all the sounds of the dungeon and just walk, keep moving. Weaving his way among the shadows, blending in so well that the Iron Warriors on patrol did not notice him at all. As if he were a shadow himself. The closer Sheik became to his destination, the more his stomach turned. There were not many things that could make Sheik's stomach do that. This was one of those few things—and the way Karis had kissed him was one of those few things, too.

_Shouldn't get used to that, huh?_

It was painful and blissful at the same time when he remembered that moment. When, for a short period of time, Sheik had been truly connected to someone. Connected in mind, in body, in soul. He hadn't felt that way in so long. But he pushed the memory from his mind as best he could, because it wasn't going to do him any good. Not in this situation, not in any situation. Although he wasn't very keen on thinking about his current situation, either.

Suddenly he was there, standing in front of the cell he had seen in his nightmares before. He did not turn to face it, but stopped, facing forward. He could feel a burning gaze upon him from within, could see a red glare from the corner of his eyes. He closed them for a few moments, trying so hard to get rid of the chills on his skin. Took a deep breath, prepared to meet that red glare head on.

_Do it. Do it now. Do it. Do it now._

He opened his eyes and turned his head.

There was a face right there behind the bars, staring up at him unflinchingly, so terrifying and hellish that Sheik was afraid that his heart would just stop. There was no evil in those eyes, no malice—that wasn't why he felt fear at his very core when he saw that face. It was because he saw suffering and wisdom and more tragedy than he had ever seen before (and he had seen his fair share of tragedy in his 20 years of life).

Her eyes were even redder than his. Bloodshot, veiny and monstrous and so awfully sad. Standing out like wounds against gray skin—gray skin?—fitting like rubber atop bones both strong and fragile. She did not blink, did not turn away, did not even move. She could have been a painting on a wall, staring straight into his soul. Sheik had to stop himself from flinching, from turning away at the sight of her. At the sight of that red glow amidst all this darkness around and inside him. He could hear his breathing becoming heavier while he stared down at her. At this woman left to rot in this cell.

The worst thing of all was the paint. In the very center of her forehead, the Sheikah eye was tattooed in flawless, ancient white ink. The tattoo surrounding Sheik's own eye imitated it perfectly. And above her left eye were three dashes and dropping down to the center of her cheek was, just like Sheik's, a thick rounded line like a teardrop. But instead of red, hers was white. And instead of her right eye, like Sheik's, it was beneath her left eye. As if, in a twisted and distorted way, his face were a reflection of hers. Younger and more stained, but a reflection. Her thick, cracked lips were in a hard straight line. Even in the darkness, Sheik could see the color of her hair. White, like snow.

No. Whiter than snow.

It was braided and wrapped intricately like a crown around her head, tucked away except for a thick strand that fell down so long on her right side that it brushed the floor. But it was unkempt, tangled with strands escaping from their place. It only seemed natural that she be unkempt, after all.

The sight of her like this made Sheik wish, for a single moment, that he were dead.

"It is our time now, Sheikah child," she finally said. Her voice sliced through the silence like a knife, low, smooth, deep. Heavily accented—an accent that, of course, Sheik recognized as if it were his own.

After all, this woman was a Sheikah. Just as he was. And yet he could not respond to her, even when he opened his trembling lips.

"We have a mission, do we not?" she continued. Her smirk was terrifying and, somehow, soothing at the same time. "Our time has come. Our time has come to retrieve what was lost seven years ago."

Sheik could not take much more. How he was to survive a journey with her, hearing in reality a voice that had haunted his nightmares for seven years, he had no idea.

"Open my cell, child. Do not be afraid."

As if she had cast a spell on him with that hypnotizing voice, Sheik obeyed. He responded. He told himself to not be afraid, and he opened the cell with a key that he had been keeping in his cloak for seven years. The door seemed to be crying out when it opened, echoing throughout the universe. Inside the cell, he saw the woman stand up. He took a step back, and she walked out through the open door of the cell.

She was even more graceful, even more regal than the queen herself. She walked with her shoulders back, her chin tilted slightly upward, her muscles rippling. Even though she must have been at least 45 years old. Like Sheik, she wore traditional Sheikah clothing—though hers were much older and much more tarnished. He wondered if she had been wearing those same clothes for the past seven years of her imprisonment. Navy blue, a red halter collar and belt, yellow embroidery of Sheikah patterns. Images that brought back beautiful memories of Sheik's distant (was it really?) childhood. It fell down as a dress to her ankles, with slits cut up to her waist on the sides. It was a truly beautiful garment, even after the beatings it had received. And she wore it exquisitely, as much as she looked like she had suffered.

Sheik thought that when she stepped up to him, he would cringe away. But he stood his ground through some power over which he had no control. His very bones quivered, but he did not move. Her lips were still perfectly straight, and she was still staring into his eyes. Now that she was standing, she was even taller than he was. At least by a few inches. She did not say anything, but stood right in front of him. Without a word, she lifted her hands.

The feeling of her palms on his cheeks was unbelievably cold—like ice being pressed against his burning skin. So cold that his heart stopped. He breathed in sharply. Her expression did not change. After a few moments, her right thumb began to stroke his cheek, and then her fingers outlined the red markings around his eye. Sheik did not even blink.

"Sheikah in blood and in body," she whispered. And then, slowly, she began to shake her head. And her voice dropped even lower. "But not in soul."

Sheik was nearly hyperventilating now. He could not understand what she was saying, could not understand the chilling look in her eyes or the iciness of her gray, seemingly lifeless skin. He wanted to turn around and leave and never come back...

_And yet I want to stay and feel her presence here forever._

"But a soul can grow," she continued. "And a soul shall grow. Do you know my name, child?"

"Of course," he tried to say, but his voice was so low and cracked that he could hardly get out those two words.

"Say it."

He paused.

"Say it, child."

"Impa."

"Do you know who I am?"

He paused. Then, "No."

Suddenly, there was a smile on her lips. So small he might not have caught it.

"No," she repeated. "No, but I know very well who you are, child."

_That makes one of us._

"Sheik, child of my sisters, survivor of my people," she said eerily. "Queen Zelda's Shadow."

At that title being uttered so disdainfully from her lips, he finally did cringe. She pressed her hands more tightly to his cheeks, narrowed her eyes until her gaze was as intense as fire upon him. And in that gaze he saw his entire ancestry, his lineage, the history of his people trembling and fainting and crumbling. She was a survivor, like him. And in her suffering he saw all of the things he had never done in the name of his people. But she stared at him unblinkingly, as if attempting to remind him. He was chilled to the bone, had to clench his jaw to keep his teeth from chattering like a child's. And there was so much darkness around, as if any semblance of light and warmth had disappeared. Had all been absorbed by Impa's familiar, strange, calming, terrifying...Sheikah eyes.

"Do not fear," she smiled. "I am one to trust, Shadow Child. Perhaps the only one to trust."

"How do I know?" he asked. She tilted her head just slightly.

"Child, you truly understand nothing. Even now." Sheik pulled his face from her grasp and turned away. He didn't want to look at her anymore. He didn't want to be reminded that somewhere in the lines of his history, he had betrayed himself. A sickening thought, hard to tolerate for even a moment. "You have grown in body, yes. You are strong now—stronger than before. But you still have much to learn."

_I can't do this..._

"We have time, child. We have time. Now let us go."

"Where?"

"To Kakariko."

If there was one place Sheik did not want to go, it was Kakariko.

"Why Kakariko?" he persisted. Impa had already turned away and was walking toward the dungeon entrance.

"There are things in Kakariko we will need for this journey. Kakariko shall be our first stop."

By the time Sheik found the willpower to follow her, she had almost disappeared. Walking, floating like a ghost through those halls—halls that, surely, she would haunt forever.

_Impa, _he thought_. Nice to see you again...the queen sends her love. _


	27. Silver-Haired Smith

**i'm gonna post two chapters this time because even i am getting impatient oy**

**thanks for dealing with my crap**

**enjoy**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Six

Silver-Haired Smith

Damita wasn't expecting to be able to sleep. Link had curled up in bed about an hour ago, exhaustion written on his face. She had stayed in the living room, hugging her knees to her chest on the chair and staring at the spot that everyone had been moments ago. It seemed like it had been years, not hours. Years since Link, with Anowaika, Vukan, and Raazi agreed to leave Castilia. Really leave Castilia. Years since, already thinking through every detail, Shad had scooped up the map and scurried home with it tucked under his arm. Years since Tingle, the strange mapmaker, had fallen asleep right there on the floor.

Once again, Damita was going to lose her friends—even if it wasn't really loss. They were going to be gone. And nobody knew for how long. They would just...be gone.

_And I'll be here. Wishing I could do something...anything...to help. _

But sitting there, staring into oblivion, a thought occurred to Damita. There surely was a way for her to help. She was, after all, the best blacksmith in all of Castilia. Walking on her tiptoes through the room, Damita pulled on her shorts and her boots, tied up her hair, and grabbed the key to the forge. Then, she walked into the bedroom where Link slept. It was a soundless sleep—sometimes he snored (really loudly), but he was quiet that night. Most times, he didn't seem to sleep at all. She was always out before he was most days. In fact, as he lay there, it almost seemed as if he weren't moving, his body hidden underneath the thin sheets. She stared at him for a few moments without really realizing it, and then she tiptoed to the corner of the room where he kept his weapons.

_Quiet...quiet...quiet, Damita._

She gingerly picked up his sword from its position on the floor, turned her back on him, and walked back out into the living room. When she opened the door, she did it as slowly as possible. She knew Link was a light sleeper, but she didn't want to take any chances. And she definitely didn't want to wake up crazy little fairy man. The stairs creaked beneath her steps, and they seemed so much louder during the night. Like a symphony in her ears, something that would be ringing there for the rest of eternity, it seemed. She took a deep breath as she walked, lighting the lanterns on the wall as she went. Everything was so dark, but for her, it couldn't have been any other way. Not to say that Damita enjoyed darkness, or had an aversion to light. At that particular moment, she needed this darkness. It was like a friend, comforting her when she couldn't possibly comfort herself.

The forge was eerie. Empty, dark, but most chillingly, silent. She stood in the center of the room for a few moments and just looked around her. Remembered how it had been when she'd first arrived in Castilia, convinced the owner of a failing furniture shop to sell her the area, and set up shop. How she had slowly built it with her own two hands, creating weapons that were more like people than objects. She smiled for a few moments, lost in the good memories. It was important, she decided, to force the good memories upon herself every once in a while to forget about the bad ones. Even if it was just for a second.

Keys twirling around her slim finger, Damita hopped over the counter and made her way back toward the smithy. It was where the forge was, where her tools were, where all of her unfinished masterpieces lay in waiting to come to life. They were, in fact, masterpieces.

_My masterpieces, beautiful things that you have to treat with love and care. _

She moved to the hearth, its embers dim, and ran her hands along the rough surface of the anvil beside it. Her hammers and tongs were all lined up there, just as she had left them that evening before closing up. With a sigh, she unsheathed Link's sword and placed it on the anvil, just to examine first. It was such an old thing, one that she had tried countless times to convince him to abandon. But, though it was old, Damita had managed to make it into one of the best weapons she had ever created. She hadn't actually created it. Link had brought it to her years ago, when they'd first met, and asked for her to enhance it. To polish it up, so to speak.

"There are plenty of swords even better than this that you can buy, kid," she had said. But Link, seventeen at the time, had shaken his head and said, "I need this one." She still wasn't sure why. But she had fixed it for him, had shaped it, just as he'd asked. After that, anytime Damita thought of new additions or enhancements, he gave it to her to fix.

Damita decided, as she started up the hearth and organized her tools, that she would spend all night in the forge. That she would create weapons unlike any weapons anyone (including herself) had ever seen.

_Everyone in Hyrule is going to get out of your way, babe_.

She began, of course, with the sword. By the time the hearth was ready, there was already sweat running from her temples down to her chin. She eased the blade of the sword into the fire, to heat it to a relatively malleable point. Once that was done and she was sweating a satisfactory amount—profusely—she laid the sword back down on the anvil, its blade now glowing. She squinted and tilted her head, fidgeting with the hammer in her hand, wondering what beautiful thing she would do to it this time. Make it more versatile? Stronger? Quicker? After she had created the image of the finished sword in her mind, she took a step back. A strange habit she had developed after years in the smithy. Then she stepped forward and brought the hammer down on the blade. One time, two times, three times...ten times, eleven times.

Damita moved on to different weapons after she was done with the sword. She could forge essentially any type of weapon. And she figured that Anowaika, Vukan, Raazi, and Link would need pretty much all of them. Not to mention armor, defense mechanisms—they would need it all.

_It's a damn good thing I have them all._

She worked tirelessly. Harder than she had during the day, certainly harder than she would tomorrow. Sweat poured down her skin in rivulets, falling down at her feet while the weapons took to the shapes that she asked of them, saying to her, We follow your bidding. She became lost in the sound of the metal on metal, the sound of these materials becoming weapons and armor. It was a feeling, a dream-like state that she cherished; it was, in fact, one of the reasons she had left home. To live her life drowning in this fiery passion that so many seemed to discredit.

_We're underrated._

Then, like something from a nightmare rather than a dream, Damita heard a scream from upstairs. It was loud, but hoarse and cracked and so desperate. It was a scream that she would recognize anywhere, one that made her heart wrench and her stomach turn. It dragged her from her blacksmith shell, and she quickly put out the hearth and dropped all of her tools and ran up the stairs as if her life depended on it. There was one long, initial scream—and now it was being followed by short, erratic ones, in a strange pattern. Without bothering to be quiet anymore, Damita threw open the door to her apartment and headed straight for the bedroom.

There he was, sitting up in bed, eyes wide and red, breathing heavy and hoarse, looking around in what seemed to be a sort of paranoia. Link had kicked the sheets off the bed in his terror and had his head in his hands. Trying to block out voices that only he could hear. He didn't even notice when Damita walked into the room and said his name. Her voice didn't seem to register in his mind.

"Shh, Link, shh," she murmured as she crawled onto the bed and took him into her arms. His skin was hot, sweat covering every inch of his bare torso. He kept his hands on either side of his head and trembled like a frightened bird, while she held him close to her and began to rock back and forth. She kept her lips close to his ear so that when she spoke, he could hear her. "It was just a dream, Link. Just a dream."

He began to shake his head vigorously, but she held on more tightly and ran her fingers through his hair. She knew exactly how to deal with this. To simply hold him and talk to him and make sure he knew reality from dream. He was mumbling to himself now, inaudibly and perhaps nonsensically. And by that time, Tingle had appeared at the doorway, rubbing his eyes and asking what was going on. After a few moments of being ignored, he turned back around and curled up on the floor where he had been and fell asleep, leaving Damita and Link on the bed, he shaking and she holding him.

"Another nightmare, Link," she continued. "Nothing else."

"A nightmare," he finally repeated. He was shaking a lot less, had put more of his weight against her in emotional exhaustion.

"You're okay."

"Just don't let go."

"Of course not," she said, and then pressed her lips to his temple. "I'm right here, okay? Right here."

He lifted his hand and held onto her arm, tightly, and his fingers felt cold somehow. Damita closed her eyes and breathed in the scent of his hair. It smelled the way she imagined a forest might smell really early in the morning. Maybe someday she would find out if that was truly what a forest smelled like.

"Do you want to tell me about it?" she murmured.

"Someone was singing to me. A shadow. Even though I couldn't see her face, I could tell she was beautiful, and had a nice voice, and she was singing just for me."

"Was that it?"

He nodded. She always found it strange that Link's nightmares, the images that made him scream and tremble, were always of something serene. Something one might think to be beautiful, meaningful, tranquil. And yet they affected him so much, made him turn into a completely different person in the depths of the night. She couldn't count how many times he had woken up like this, screaming. Each time Damita would hold him, each time he would beg her not to go. And always, he woke up the next morning as if nothing had ever happened, and she would just wait for the next time.

"It's over now," she sighed. "Your nightmare is over. You should get some sleep."

"I'm leaving tomorrow," he murmured. He was still delirious, still experiencing the effects of the haunting images in his dreams. "I'm leaving and I might never come back."

"Don't talk like that. Don't think like that. You're coming back."

"I've never even left Castilia."

"But you've always wanted to, right?"

He was quiet again, and that was how Damita knew that he had returned to himself. But he still didn't move. He just sat there in Damita's arms. He was less tense. She squeezed more tightly.

"Damita," he whispered.

"Yeah, Link?"

"I don't know what I'm doing."

"No one really does."

"How am I supposed to find something I don't believe in?"

"Don't think of it like that. You're just looking for _something_."

"Damita."

"Yeah, Link?"

"I don't even know who I am."

"That's not true."

"I don't remember the first fifteen years of my life."

"Shh," she whispered. She placed her lips on the top of his head and breathed him in. "Not remembering doesn't mean you don't know who you are. You know _exactly_ who you are. Having the Triforce, being some kind of hero—none of that changes who you actually are. Your memories don't make you a different person."

"Do you really think that?"

"Yes."

"Do you think I'll change if I find the Triforce?"

She shook her head and they both fell silent.

He didn't have to say anything for Damita to know that she was expected to stay with him, at least until he drifted off again. While he lay back down, she retrieved the blanket from the floor, spread it over his body, and squeezed beside him. Like an infant to its mother, he placed his forehead against her chest and curled up, while she stroked his hair and his bare, scratched, tattooed back. She could feel his breath falling against her skin, quick and light at first, slowly becoming steadier, heavier.

"Don't leave," he murmured as he began to drift off to sleep.

"I'm not leaving."

_I couldn't even if I tried. _

Damita thought about how long it might be before she saw him again, and held him as tightly as she possibly could.

_I'm not leaving_, she thought as he drifted off, _but you are_.

Soon enough they were both asleep, drowning in each other's breath and the sound of their colliding heartbeats.


	28. To Become a Revolutionary

Chapter Twenty-Seven

To Become a Revolutionary

Anowaika bowed and apologized over and over, wondering if this was actually just a very stupid thing to be doing. Her boss—a large, experienced Hylian fisherman who had limited himself to working in markets for the past ten years—had his arms crossed and was staring at her with disappointment. That was one thing Anowaika really hated. People being disappointed in her. But, she supposed, she had no choice.

_No, I don't think that's true_, she corrected within herself. _I do have a choice. This is my decision. I need to leave Castilia. _

"We're gonna miss you around here, Ano," her boss sighed. "Nobody quite as good as you as getting those pearls."

"I wish I didn't have to leave," she lied, bowing again. The truth of the matter was that she was more than ready to leave. The entire world, it seemed, had been calling her name for years. She had always felt something so strange, almost shameful. She had never seen her homeland. She had never seen the Zora Isles, even though her mother (and she assumed her father) had grown up there. Even though her grandmother had once been advisor to the King of Zoras. It was time, she decided, to leave this suffocating city and reconnect with her history. Not to mention the fact that she was not about to let Link run around Hyrule alone, getting himself into more danger than usual.

"Well, let me know when you're around again. There'll always be a spot for you, you hear?"

"Yes, sir!" Anowaika bowed one more time, and then headed back to her home. It was still early in the day. She had time to prepare. She didn't have much to pack, but she wasn't sure how long she'd be gone.

A long time, she hoped. A very, very long time.

She wondered if maybe she could go to the Zora Isles, find her father, discover herself, and just stay there. Never come back to this tired old city that had sucked her dry after twenty-six years. As she walked back to her house, letting her scaly fingers run along the wooden railing by the pier, she tried to imagine what this adventure would be like. If they had what it took—if this Triforce even existed. And, of course, Anowaika couldn't ignore the intense fear bubbling up within her, threatening to rise up and cloud her vision. Castilia may have been stifling, but it was also her home. She had never been outside its walls, had never seen anything outside the royal capital of Hyrule.

But even as these fears lay within her, she couldn't keep the wide, bright smile from spreading across her face.

* * *

Vukan decided to finish a full day of work. There wasn't much for a Goron like him to pack for a journey. He had made the mine wardens aware that morning that he would not be returning after tonight. Perhaps ever. He took no issue with that, anyway. In fact, he had been lying in wait for the day that he would be able to leave Castilia, leave to make something of the hatred and grief within his soul. He had known, from the moment he had first met Link, that one day he, too, would leave Castilia, and he had decided then and there that he would follow Link when he did that. And today was that day. So with his diamond necklace, Vukan mined and mined and mined, occasionally popping a rock into his mouth, knowing that after tonight his life would once again change forever. But maybe this time, he'd be able to control its direction.

Because the miner with the diamond necklace knew that if he ever came back to Castilia again, it would be for one reason and one reason only.

To kill the queen.

* * *

Link and Raazi had agreed that he would stop by the restaurant at which she worked and they would leave together for the stables. The restaurant was in Northwestern Castilia, which had essentially developed into the art district of the city. Where the galleries, the auction houses, the theaters, the true culture of Castilia was. He walked, as always, with licorice between his lips and his hands in his pockets. But this time, instead of simply slinging his sword over his shoulders and stuffing his identification papers (useless now) into his pockets, had a shoulder bag, into which he had put anything he thought he might need for this rather unpredictable journey. And he still couldn't determine why he had decided to embark on it in the first place. Perhaps it was just an excuse for him to leave Castilia and do something other than lurk in the underground, killing and taking money and hoping that one day he could reach Zelda. He was, after all, the leader of the group—this group that, thanks to Shad and his connections, had grown into a web of mercenaries and spies throughout the Four Lands. They had allies in every single area.

_It's not really for the Triforce_, he decided, sucking on his licorice. _It's to start a revolution. _

Maybe he could stop being a filthy mercenary, a scum murderer, and finally become a revolutionary.

_Revolutionary. Resistance. Rebellion. _

The restaurant was called The Exotic Courtyard, and it specialized in Gerudic cuisine. He could see the sign for it from down the street, written in Hylian above and then in Gerudic on the bottom, in lovely curled letters. As racist as Hylians were, Link observed in amusement, they did have a cultivated appreciation for foreign foods. It was one of the most popular restaurants in all Castilia—it was in Northwestern Castilia because, along with delicious Gerudic food, they had authentic Gerudic performances each night. Gerudo singers, dancers, poets, musicians of instruments that Link didn't know the name of. Raazi was, inevitably, the star attraction. She was making a pretty penny, he guessed.

The street of the restaurant was packed with other restaurants and performance areas, and it was lined with street performers of all races who smiled and danced and nodded at Link as he walked past. This particular area of Castilia was almost always the most crowded—it was, he agreed, the most enjoyable part of the city, after all. It was the section where people of all races could come together, share cultures and food and music and art, and forget their differences. Even if it was for a little while. He loved Northwestern Castilia. He could see from the end of the street that people were already flooding into The Exotic Courtyard. He followed them inside, could hear the music from miles away, could smell the food and the smoke.

The inside of the restaurant was relatively dark, with lanterns lining the wall to give it an orange glow. It took a moment for his eyes to adjust, and he could see smoke hanging in the air. In ever corner was a large intricate water pipe, traditionally smoked in Gerudic culture, for which the patrons could pay to enjoy. Smoke rose up from the pipes and filled the air, made the entire restaurant smell of tobacco. But it was a smell that Link didn't mind much. Raazi often smelled of tobacco anyway, and he had grown accustomed to it. He had almost grown to enjoy it. The tables were not like at other restaurants—in fact, this habit of the Gerudo people was similar to that of the Goron people. The tables were set extremely low, and the seats were beautifully embroidered cushions set upon the ground. Before entering the main area of the restaurant, one would have to take off his or her shoes. With the licorice still in his mouth, Link followed the norm and unlaced his boots before stepping up onto the main dining area.

Without waiting for anyone to seat him, he dropped down onto one of the cushions at an empty table. As appetizers, there was bread and olives and a traditional paste (consisting of a specific bean Link had forgotten the name of) already on the table. There was soft music playing, and a stage at the back. The curtains were still drawn, the music so soft he could hardly hear it, but he checked his watch and knew that Raazi's performance would be happening soon. He ordered a cup of cardamom coffee from the Gerudo waitress and popped a few olives in his mouth. It was a nice atmosphere.

_If all the places in the Gerudo Deserts are like this, it can't be that bad._

Suddenly, the music stopped, and the curtains began to draw. Everyone became silent for a few moments, and then began to clap and whistle excitedly. Link looked around and was impressed that the number of Hylians was almost as much as the number of Gerudos here. He could see the stage now, but the lights were dimmed, so it was pitch black. But he could see the silhouettes of a group of people on the right side of the stage, the musicians. One had a string instrument like a violin, one a lute-like instrument, one a small drum, one a flute, one sat at a piano, and two held microphones. Some Hylian, some Gerudo. The ones holding the instruments Link didn't recognize were all Gerudo, and one of the singers was, too. The other was a younger Hylian man. After a few moments, after the crowd had grown silent, they began to play the music softly. They started out with the violin and the piano. A delicate, distant melody. When Link closed his eyes and just listened, he didn't feel like he was in his own body anymore. A foreign melody.

When he opened his eyes, the lights came on, though softly, on the stage.

There Raazi stood, her hands up above her head and her head turned to the side, eyes closed and body poised. With the melody of the violin, she began twisting her wrists and bringing her arms down. The bracelets on her wrist crashed against each other, but it was only her arms that moved. Once her arms were down by her hips, she stood still again. Still had not moved any other section of her body, not even her head—hadn't even opened her eyes. And as she stood, the male singer opened his mouth and began to sing. Slowly, deeply, each word drawn out in dramatic Gerudic tongue and his voice fluctuating melodically. Link couldn't understand what he was saying, but it soothed him anyway. After he sang for around a minute, the person at the drum began to play it. A few beats with the heel of her hand, slowly, at first. And then Raazi's hips began to move. Perfectly with the beat of the drum. As it sped up, so did she. Faster, faster...

Until every instrument was playing, the singers had joined together, and Raazi had complete control of the stage. Her arms moved, her hips mesmerized, her eyes now opened and her lips turned up in a slight, intriguing smile. He knew, without having to even glance around, that all eyes were glued to her. The sequins on her shawl and skirt billowed with every step, and she used the entire stage. Would lift her arms up and put a foot forward, let her belly and her hips do the talking. All while the beautiful music played behind her, accompanying her every move. Link smiled to himself, bobbed his head to the beat, chewed on some more olives. He wished that he understood Gerudic.

When the show was over and Link had finished his coffee, Raazi joined him at the table, kissed him on both cheeks in greeting, and ordered tea and a pipe for herself.

"You liked the show?" she asked, already knowing the answer. Link nodded, dipped the bread into the bean paste, and took a bite. "I am glad."

They sat in mutual silence for a few minutes, while she sucked in from the huge pipe and blew it out from her nose. She offered him the mouthpiece, but he refused with a shake of his head. She shrugged as if to say, Suit yourself, and kept on smoking.

"You Gerudos aren't so bad if this is how you spend your time," Link smirked. Raazi raised her eyebrows.

"You think this is how we spend our time?" she laughed. "No, no. This is not what we do." Link furrowed his brow, and she continued, "But we know what Hylians want."

They were silent for a few moments, before she spoke again.

"Are you all ready, little wolf?" she asked.

He nodded. "You?"

She nodded. "It is strange. My last dance."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

She smiled to say that she knew better, that she certainly understood more than Link, and put the pipe away.

"To the stables then, yes?" she said, standing up. It was only then that he noticed she had changed into baggy pants that cinched at the ankles and a sleeveless shirt cropped just above her pierced belly button. Link nodded and stood up, stuffing his mouth with olives for the road. Then he and Raazi left The Exotic Courtyard and made their way toward the back gates of the city.

* * *

Shad lit a candle and checked the ancient clock on his desk. It was almost eleven o'clock. He sat down at the desk in his large office—the one that he used specifically for writing letters—and pulled out a piece of parchment. He took his best quill and dipped it into the ink while his heart pounded in his chest. It seemed like he had written this same letter so many times, and still, it made his glasses fog and his skin hot.

_Dearest Ashei, _

_ I hope this letter finds you well and in good spirits. I do hope I have not made you wait too long. As you can guess, affairs have been rather mad here. I suppose you have a similar experience up where you are, but I feel as if I am constantly on my toes, looking over my shoulder. Do you feel the same? Well, the point is, my allies and I have been surviving rather well up until now. I say "up until now" because something rather terrible has occurred—Link is now a fugitive, having been imprisoned within the castle and consequently escaped. I wish I could write the entire story for you, but unfortunately, there is not much time. For I must send this letter to you as soon as possible. In my next letter, I promise that I will tell you everything. I know how impatient and curious you are, so do not fret too much. For now, though, I shall leave it at that. _

_ I am sending Link and a few other members up to where you are, as I am sure you can help them find what they are looking for. I do recall you recounting to me rumors that you had been hearing, about a golden light flashing in the mountains only when the night was darkest. I have an inkling that that golden light may be what Link is searching for. Although, to be quite honest with you, I don't think Link is interested in finding anything. I think he is finally ready to start a real revolution. Just intuition._

_ I will tell him to explain everything to you once he arrives, which will hopefully be within the next few days. I will direct him straight to the cottage at the base of the mountains, where my hope is for you to meet him and help in any way you can. I know you have been asking me for years what, if anything, you can do to help the cause more than you already are—and you have been helping immensely. But I am afraid, my darling, that your help is most needed right now. I have no doubt in your abilities, and I would trust you with my life. _

_ Stay safe, be careful, write soon. And, as always, I hope to truly see your face one of these days. Writing letters can get so tiresome, wouldn't you agree?_

_ Yours truly, _

_ Shad_

He folded up the letter, put it in an envelope, kissed it, and sealed it with his wax seal. He glanced at the small, framed pictograph on his desk, beside the waning candle. It was of a young woman with black hair and piercing eyes, and it made him happy. Then he began preparing for his meeting with the others.


	29. Fare Thee Well

**chapter 28!**

**poll time: **

**favorite character so far? I am very interested in knowing your opinions beautiful peeps**

**enjoy!**

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Eight

Fare Thee Well

When Link and Raazi arrived, everyone else was already there. Vukan, Anowaika, Damita, Shad, and (oddly enough) Tingle were there. They were huddled inside, speaking to each other in hushed tones beneath the whinnies of the horses. Link didn't bother closing the door behind him. He and Raazi joined the group. She kissed each person on each cheek and Link looked around him. Shad was dressed to go to a ball, Anowaika had a small backpack on and a bright smile, Vukan had nothing and said nothing, Damita had her arms crossed and her hips cocked to one side and at her feet was a large burlap sack. Link didn't like the look of it. He had his own bag with him, Raazi had her own, and Tingle was wandering aimlessly around attempting to interact with the horses. All of them standing there together was, he assumed, quite a sight to see. They were all so radically different, but every single one of them could feel the string that held them together. That was the first moment Link thought about how strange it would be for them to separate, they had been one group for so long.

"Now that we're all here, I suppose we should get started," Shad sighed. He was not frazzled, not jittery as usual. He seemed rather sad, actually, with a resigned pout on his lips. "Time wasted is time lost, as Sturgeon once said."

"Did you look at the map?" Anowaika asked. Shad nodded, and pulled it out from inside his jacket.

"I did, for quite a while. I've designed a plan for you—an extensive one, the details of which I won't divulge to you at this very moment. And I'll also have to keep the map here with me. So I will feed you the plan bit by bit, and you can tell me what you think at each step. So when you are done at each location, send me a letter, and I will give you directions. By hawk, of course, because using the post-man would be too risky. Either that, or I will have someone tell you at the location you're at. Does that sound reasonable?" he asked. They all nodded wordlessly. "Good. Well, as you all know, we have allies all over Hyrule, in every single one of the Four Lands. I don't mean to brag, but I've built quite the network. Now, according to this map, there are two Triforce shards in each land. And I thought since you are here already, we will start with the Hylian Cities. Are we in agreement?"

They all nodded again.

"Very well. Once you have gathered the shards, should they exist, in the Hylian Cities, we will decide together where to go next. I already gave you your identification papers earlier today, Link." Link pulled some sheets of paper from his pocket (endless, it seemed). Shad had given him these fake identification papers earlier. "Your name is now Ravio, a simple farm boy, should any one other than our allies ask. Yes?"

Link nodded and repeated the name, to get used to it. "Ravio."

"You were born and raised in Ordon in the south, and you are on a trip to see your relatives. Yes?"

"Yes."

"And for now, the queen hasn't put up any wanted posters of you—and I don't think she would have any kind of pictograph. Nobody should know who you are or what your face looks like except for her. So for now, you don't have to hide your face. Just be wary."

"Got it."

"Now, that's been taken care of."

"Good, because I have something for you all, too," Damita interjected. Her hair was very bright and messy in the darkness, and Link wanted to reach out and touch it. But he thought better of it and just sucked on his licorice. She bent down and reached into her large burlap sack. The first thing she drew out was what looked like a large leather bracer, to be strapped to someone's leg. She handed it to Raazi.

"This one is for you. It'll hold all the vials and daggers you need, and if you strap it to your leg, nobody will see it. Oh, I actually have some daggers, for you, too." As Raazi took the bracer, Damita pulled out two wavy, exquisitely molded daggers. "Be careful with these. There's lizalfos poison in the handle, all right? So if you don't kill 'em with the first cut, they'll die within minutes."

"Thank you, Damita." Raazi stepped forward and kissed Damita gratefully on the cheek. "I will use them wisely."

"All right, your turn, Ano."

"Exciting," the Zora grinned.

"I know you don't like weapons very much, but you're going to need them where you're going. I made you a spear. I figured you'd be comfortable using it because of fishing. I made a case for it, too, so you can just strap it to your back. I have it registered for you and everything, so you shouldn't get stopped for it." She handed Anowaika a long, shimmering metal lance, with a frighteningly sharp end. It looked like she had painted it blue, because at certain angles, it shined like the ocean. Anowaika took it, held it in her hands, twisted it a few times.

"It's perfect, Damita. Thanks."

"Now for you, Vukan," she smiled, hands on her hips. "There's not much I can do for Gorons; you guys are strong enough without my weapons. But I did make you a helmet. Hopefully it fits. I estimated with the measurements."

As she took the bronze helmet from the sack, Vukan lowered his head until Damita could reach high enough to place it on. It did, in fact, fit perfectly. Without a word, Vukan put his giant hand on Damita's shoulder.

"No problem," she replied. And then, she turned to Link. Before she said anything, she just looked at him for a few moments, expressionless. He smiled at her, because he wanted to see her smile back. He wanted the last thing he saw of her for a while to be a smile, something radiant. But she didn't really smile. The only change in her face was a spark in her green eyes. "Now for you, Link. I'm not going to lie, it was hard deciding what to make you, because you can use every goddamn weapon out there."

First, she pulled out a bow and arrows. They were pristine.

"If you need to restock on arrows, you should be able to buy them anywhere."

Next, she pulled out a sharp, angled, beautifully carved boomerang.

"These can be useful sometimes, so don't lose it, okay doofus? It should fit in your belt."

He smirked and hooked it to his belt, as she'd ordered. Next, she pulled out his sword. The one that he'd had since he could remember (literally).

"I spent the night enhancing it. You know, just making it stronger, sleeker. It should feel a little bit faster the next time you use it. Try not to get too much blood on it, yeah?"

He swung it back and forth a few times, could already feel the difference, and then sheathed it. Damita had one more thing for him. She reached down into her burlap sack and pulled out just what Link had been expecting: a glove. Without a word, she stepped forward, and he lifted his left hand. The air suddenly changed between them as their bodies drew closer together. As cold as it was in the dead of night, he felt warm. He tried to meet her eyes, but she wouldn't look up at him. She stared straight down at his hand. Slowly, she pressed her fingers to his wrist, pulled up on the glove until it came off and his hand was revealed. In all of its scarred beauty. His leather glove had become ratty and old, and he had somehow known that Damita would craft him a new one. He stood completely still and completely silent, afraid that if he so much as breathed, he might scare her away.

Her fingers were like fire against his skin as she turned his hand up and began to stroke his rough, calloused palm. He looked at her face and saw that she couldn't see anyone else—in fact, she couldn't even see him. She was lost in her own world. Tracing patterns into the palm of his hand while he watched with a delicate smile. He almost opened his mouth to tell her to never stop, but he didn't. Then, she slipped the glove she had made him over his fingers and strapped it tight. Until it felt like a part of his skin. But she kept staring for a while more, kept her hands around his for a while more. And then Link felt the strongest urge he had ever had. The urge to kiss her like he had never kissed her, like he had never kissed anyone.

Before her head could completely come up, before her eyes could meet his, he bent down and kissed her in the darkness of that barn, knowing that everyone was watching and not caring. Her fingers tightened around his wrist, her lips greeted his and were salty. He could feel strands of her silver hair brushing against his cheeks and his forehead. When she pulled away, she wrapped her arms around his neck and stood on her tiptoes and hugged him tightly, until there was no space between them. He could feel the urgency, the desperation, in her touch.

"Don't you dare die on me out there, you hear?" she whispered in his ear. Her voice was shaking. He held her but didn't say anything. It was the first moment that he realized that, in the past five years, they had always been together. They had never really been separated before. "I mean it. I'll come after you in heaven or hell or wherever you end up going if you die. You won't get rid of me that easily."

He squeezed more tightly and pressed his lips to her neck.

"And make sure you write to me," she added.

"Of course."

"And don't ever doubt yourself. You know who you are."

After a few moments, they pulled away and she stepped back, avoided his eyes yet again and hastily wiped her eyes with the back of her hand. He wasn't sure if that kiss, if that hug would be enough to sustain him for very long, but he resolved that he didn't have much of a choice. .

_If only she weren't so goddamn stubborn._

"As for the rest of you—I didn't have time to get you good armor or shields or anything. Make sure you pick some up on the way," she said hastily. Everyone understood quietly.

"Well...I suppose it's time I tell you where you're going then?" Shad broke the silence. They all nodded. "How will you be travelling, Link?"

"I'll ride Epona, Raazi and Ano can ride Flare," he began.

"Vukan can easily keep up without a horse, so don't worry about him," Anowaika said. Link could have sworn that, for a single moment, he saw tears in her eyes.

"Very well then." Shad handed Link a piece of paper, and he opened it. "I had Tingle redraw the map for you, but only the section of the Hylian Cities. I've marked the paths you will take and written the names of the people you will meet. The rest is up to you, Link, because nobody actually knows very much about the Triforce. But I have faith in you."

"Where to first? There are two shards." Raazi asked.

"Yes," Shad nodded. "There is one in the very north, and one in the very south. I thought it would be easier for you to go north first and then go back south. So the first place you'll be going is..." He pointed silently at the red circle he had drawn.

Link and Raazi looked up at each other and let out a collective sigh.

"Snowhead Mountains."


	30. Always One People

**And this chappie marks the beginning of part three yayayayaya**

**much excite**

**so zelda**

**wow**

* * *

_PART THREE_

_THE SNOWY SHARD_

* * *

Chapter Twenty-Nine

Always One People

Sheik wondered why he hadn't asked Impa to stop and get some horses. Certainly it would make their travels easier, quicker, less tedious. But she hadn't brought it up, and so he hadn't brought it up. If he was being honest with himself, the fact was that he was avoiding any type of conversation with her at all. Since they had left the dungeons last night—and the sun had risen hours ago—they had not spoken a single word to one another. Sheik acknowledged that his silence was bred of fear and shame; the purpose of hers, though, he couldn't see.

_Maybe she's just lost in thought. Seems like the kind of person to do that a lot._

She was walking a few feet in front of him, and he lagged behind. Deliberately. Sheik didn't feel comfortable walking right beside her. That would feel too intimate. He walked, his shoeless, padded feet silent against the dirt path upon which they walked, the world shadowed by the hood that kept his face veiled. His braid fell over his shoulder but was messier than usual. His hair hadn't been very cooperative that morning. That was how Sheik walked, quietly and nearly hidden from the entire world, wraps covering his mouth and head and arms and legs. So very different than the way _she_ walked—a few feet ahead. Her steps, too, were silent. But silent in the most dramatic way, not like the silent silence of Sheik's footsteps. And she wasn't wearing a cloak or a hood or any type of garment to hide her identity. She walked openly and proudly.

He watched her unwaveringly. Mesmerized by her every move. She was the epitome of grace as she walked, her head held high and her shoulders low and her back straight. Like royalty. Her strand of blinding white hair swung in front of her face like a pendulum, back and forth with the rhythm of her steps. She stared straight ahead, her mouth as straight as a pin, without so much as a flicker of emotion ever crossing her features. He was walking on her left side, and so could see the white, inked markings on her face. They made his heart pound. He watched her with his red eyes narrowed, scrutinizing every inch of her, wondering why he felt that he could collapse at any moment simply being in her presence. Suddenly, as if she could feel his gaze, she looked at him. But she did not move her head a single inch. She stared at him through the corner of her eyes, so strikingly that Sheik turned to the ground almost instantly.

He realized then that Impa was the first full-blooded Sheikah he'd met since he was fourteen—since the cleansing seven years ago.

"Do I frighten you, child?" she asked. He heard a hint of amusement in her voice. It still maintained an ancient (at least, it seemed ancient) Sheikah accent that Sheik hadn't heard in a very long time. For he himself had long ago stripped that accent from his own tongue.

_It must be over seven years now since she's spoken her native tongue. _

"Yes," he said. There was no point trying to lie to her. Sheikah in general had strong senses—strong hearing, strong senses of smell, beyond perfect vision. But Impa, he knew, had more than that. She could hear stories in a person's voice, smell their emotions in the air, see their souls. If he had tried to say no, she would have laughed at him and known the answer anyway.

"Why do I frighten you?" she asked, her tone unchanged. "Shouldn't it be I who is afraid of you?"

"Why would _you_ be afraid of _me?"_ Sheik raised his eyebrows.

"Are you not the strongest warrior in Hyrule?"

"Sure," he sighed. Then he put his hands behind his head and stared at the sky. "Doesn't really mean anything if I don't attack, does it?"

"Or defend."

"Right, or defend." The sky was very blue. Sheik didn't really know where they were going or if they had even found a path that was so far away from the road that most travelers and merchants used to travel from the west to the north—for Kakariko was far to the west of Castilia, near the border between the Hylian Cities and the Goron Mountains. The path they walked was nearly abandoned except for the occasional stray dog or Keaton to pass by. Impa and Sheik were alone, walking down that path, surrounded by the grassy hills that spanned the landscape of the Hylian Cities. They could see villages in the distance, and when Sheik turned over his shoulder, he could see Hyrule Castle rising up, divine and towering and reaching toward the sky, on the horizon.

He didn't like to admit it to many people, but he had never actually left Castilia. The world to him was only within those city walls. And the last place he wanted to go was the birthplace of his ancestors in Kakariko. But Impa seemed like she knew exactly where she was going. As if she remembered every pebble and every bend in the road, even holed up in her cell for seven years.

_It won't be as green, that's for damn sure._

"Is it my story that frightens you?" Impa continued. It seemed she hadn't decided to drop the subject yet. Sheik kicked a pebble in his path.

"I don't know your story," he replied, "so how could it scare me?"

"Of course you know my story," she said. He glanced over at her and saw a smirk on her lips. She was right, obviously. "My story is the story of my people, the story of your people."

"You're not ashamed to call me a Sheikah?" he said without warning. He hadn't meant to say that. He had meant to keep his mouth shut. He didn't want to talk about this with Impa. "After what I've done, you'll still claim that I'm like you?"

_A part of the beautiful, strong, proud race that I've betrayed?_

"What you have done, what you are doing, what you will do," she breathed. "None if it changes the fact that you are and always will be a Sheikah. Always a Shadow Child."

He felt chills on his skin and began to stretch out his arms, trying to distract himself in any possible way from the terrible emotions Impa stirred within him. The terrible memories she brought to the surface of his mind.

"Can I ask you a question?" he asked.

"You can. But I may not answer."

"Why are you doing this? Why are you helping Zelda?"

Impa threw her head back and let out a laugh that made the entire earth tremble.

"You think I am doing this to help Zelda? Do not be foolish," she spat. "I am doing this because the time has come."

"Time for what, though?" _Stop being so goddamn ambiguous. _

"The time has come for the Triforce to be reunited, and for the hero to claim what is his."

"Why do I even bother," he mumbled under his breath. They continued in silence, because Sheik decided that if he was ever going to figure out Impa's intentions, it wasn't going to be any time soon. And, unfortunately, they would be travelling together for quite a while. But, in a strange way, as much as Sheik hated being around her, as much as he tried to push away the terrible memories she resurfaced in him, he couldn't help but feel the most overwhelming sense of admiration for her.

_She's everything I should be—everything I should've been. _

"My turn now," Impa said. "Why are _you_ helping Zelda?"

Sheik opened his mouth, intent on answering...only to find that there wasn't really an answer. Nothing that came to his tongue as immediately as he had anticipated it would.

"Because...because she helped me, a long time ago," he said softly. The words sounded strange in his voice. "And I promised her my loyalty." _My life._

"Even now?" Impa raised her eyebrows skeptically. Sheik felt his eyes become dark as he clenched his fists.

"Even now," he said. "I never go back on my word. _Never._"

"Foolish," she scoffed. They were silent again as Sheik tried to gather his racing thoughts and calm his nerves. Maybe it was foolish. But he didn't care. It wasn't the first time he had been called foolish.

He decided to speak again after a few minutes, because he realized fairly soon that the silence was even worse. It let him get lost in turmoil too easily.

"What are we going to do in Kakariko?" he asked.

"I am going to test you."

"_Test_ me?"

"To see just how much you need to learn," she smiled. Sheik did not like the sound of that at all. As if he were some kind of personal experiment, created for Impa's amusement.

"Shouldn't we be looking for the Triforce? Isn't _that_ why we're here?"

"You are correct. But there is something in Kakariko we need to find the Triforce. You will understand once we arrive."

"All right," he sighed. He was getting impatient. "How long until we get there, then?"

"From here, it is three days walking."

"Three days?" he gawked.

"Why?" She stopped in her tracks, then turned to look at him. Her gaze petrified him, and he stopped, too. Her eyes were narrowed every so slightly, a smirk on her lips. "Would you like to get there faster?"

_I feel like this is a trick question. _

"Very well, child. You know how to vanish, I assume?" Vanishing was a practice specific to Sheikah. By channeling their inner energy and concentrating it into their limbs, they could travel long distances in a second, by vanishing into thin air and appearing in a completely different location.

"You would assume correctly."

Her eyes still staring into his, Impa reached into her garment and pulled out two small seeds. They both fit perfectly like puzzle pieces in the palm of her hand.

"How far?"

"Fifteen miles." Before he had even finished his answer, she tossed him one of the seeds, and he caught it without so much as turning his head. He recognized it as a Deku seed—not the kind that were sold in every market in Hyrule. It was a Deku seed enhanced by the hands of the Sheikah. He had once been taught how to make them, but had since forgotten.

"Now you can travel 500 miles," she said. Sheik held the seed between his thumb and his index finger, brought it close to his narrowed eyes. It had a strange, golden hue to it.

"Five-hundred?" he breathed. "The most I've seen is one hundred in one of these things."

"You have not seen many, Shadow Child," she laughed. "It will take energy, yes, but we can rest once we arrive in Kakariko. Are you ready?" She lifted her hand, ready to throw the seed to the ground.

"W-wait! How do I—?"

"You will know," she said with one last ambiguous nod. Then she threw the seed to the ground, was surrounded by a shroud of smoke—and once it was gone, so was Impa.

"Goddammit, can't a guy get a break around here?" he sighed. He looked in every direction to see if there was anyone around, though he should have known better. Of course there wasn't anybody around. It was clear that Impa knew her way. Every move she made seemed like instinct, something she could do in her sleep. Once he was satisfied with his isolation, Sheik closed his eyes and began channeling his energy, until he felt it pulsing within his muscles. It made his body warm. Then, with nothing but the image of Kakariko in his mind (a place he had never seen before but in pictures and stories), he tossed the seed to the ground and felt himself vanish.

When his feet touched the ground, he was right beside Impa, beneath the entrance to Kakariko.

Sheik was scared that if he stepped through that entrance, across the threshold, into that place he had sworn to never visit, his own body might rebel against him. But he had no choice. He watched Impa stride in proudly, regally, and he had no choice but to follow her. Hunched inside of his cloak, covering his face so nobody would know what it looked like. The earth had changed from green to red. Not a desert, exactly. But it was mountainous terrain, leading into the dry territory of the Gorons. Kakariko was just on the border between the Hylian Cities and the Goron Mountains. When he breathed in, the air felt stale and sorrowful in his lungs. The wind howled with untold secrets and a too-dark history that made his blood both boil and run cold. There were a few travelers passing in and out, beneath the rising arch of the Kakariko. The name of the town was written in Hylian on top—Sheikah on the bottom. On either side was a crudely painted Sheikah's eye, drawn so that the red paint had dripped off the edge of the wood. He stared at that arch for ages, wondering which title he was drawn to more: the Hylian or the Sheikah.

From where he stood, he couldn't see very clearly past the Iron Warriors to what was past that arch, to what lay inside that haunted village. He couldn't even bring himself to call it a city. Sheik showed them his single paper—a stamped and signed pardon from the queen herself—and they let him pass. He assured them that Impa was travelling with him, so they begrudgingly allowed her passage, as well. As before, she walked a few steps in front of him.

_I don't know where I'm going, anyway._


	31. Ghost Town Storyteller

**this one is hella long and i hope it's not boring. i actually really enjoyed writing this chapter. sheik's perspective is probably my favorite to write, though i'm not entirely sure why.**

**can we like riot so that the game designers include sheik in more games**

**yes**

**good**

**enjoy**

* * *

Chapter Thirty

Ghost Town Storyteller

The village was strange. There was a single main road that led from one side to the other—at the other end began passage through the mountains, toward the border. On either side of the single road, wide and desolated as it seemed, were houses. Although, Sheik wasn't really sure if he could call them houses. They looked more like huts, thrown together with whatever materials happened to be lying around. That's what it seemed like to him. Each a different shape, a different color, crushed together as if trying to use as little space as possible for this village. In the center of that road was a large circle, perhaps what was once the proud main square of the village. It was huge, and in the center, ruins that represented something indiscernible. Bricks unevenly stacked, reaching up desperately for the sky, pieces of wood scattered, in what seemed to be the base of some sort of tower. Nothing that was recognizable now. There were so few people out on that main road. Sheik wondered for a moment if they were in the right place; if they had somehow taken a wrong turn somewhere. The stories he'd heard about Kakariko were so different from this.

_When I was younger...this is definitely not the village I dreamed of seeing._

A cat crossed the road in front of him, small and starving and patchy. He crouched down and held his hand out to it, clicked his tongue a few times. The cat stopped and looked at him, a confused expression in its eyes. It tilted its head, staring at Sheik's wrapped, outstretched hand. Then it let out a meek meow and limped away. With a sigh, Sheik stood back up and continued to drag himself behind Impa. Continued looking around him, making disillusioned eye contact with the occasional passerby. Sheikah, he realized. Real, full-blooded Sheikah like him and Impa. But they had a hopeless look about them, a glaze in their eyes that made his heart drop like a stone.

All of a sudden, as Sheik's eyes flitted from one decrepit hut to another, from one lost red-eyed Sheikah to another, he felt tears. They rushed to the edges of his eyelids and sat there, screaming for release, begging to honor this village and its rich history with their mere existence. Thankfully, when they had crossed to what seemed to be the center of the village, Impa stopped. Sheik stopped beside her. He stared down at that red, earthy ground, cracked and soiled and plantless. His fists clenched at his side and he tried his hardest to keep the tears at bay.

_You don't belong here,_ he tried to tell them. _Go away._

_ I don't belong here._

"Kakariko," Impa said quietly. "Capital of the Sheikah people. The one place for us to call home. The one place in all of Hyrule where Sheikah are most highly concentrated." She turned to look at Sheik, but he wouldn't make eye contact. He kept staring at the scarred ground beneath him. Hoping that she couldn't see his tears. They were close to spilling.

"Home," he murmured.

"What do you think of it, Shadow Child?" He saw her smile, and it made him sick. "Not what you imagined, is it?"

He could only shake his head.

"These buildings were once tall. These people proud. Life ravishing and full," she continued. "After the War of the Four Lands, it has become this."

"It's like a ghost town," he said.

Impa nodded, and then said, "Your voice is shaking."

Sheik wiped his wet eyes with the back of his hand and straightened up. He couldn't be seen like that, no—especially not here. Not in this place. Not in this place that needed him so desperately. Needed his red eyes and tattoos and superhuman abilities and Sheikah language. For a reason that Sheik couldn't deduce, couldn't figure out, couldn't decipher, he lowered his hood with trembling hands until his face was clear. Until he could see everything and everything could see him. He wanted this place to know who he was, even if he himself was still trying to figure it out.

"Come, my child. There is someone you must meet." She continued to stare at him until he met her gaze, nodded, and followed her. But he couldn't bring himself to meet the gaze of any other Sheikah. He wasn't sure if he'd be able to do it. Impa led him to the very far side of town, then turned right. They were in front of a small house, made of bricks and covered with a metal roof. The windows in the front had been shattered and hastily taped back together, and the porch was rickety and unstable when Sheik and Impa stepped up onto it. He stood quietly and obediently behind her as she knocked on the door.

"**Come inside**_,_" came a voice. Old, shaking. Speaking in Sheikah. Sheik was surprised at how easily he understood the words. Impa opened the door and walked inside, he at her heels.

The air was warm inside the house as Sheik closed the door behind him, and he began to sweat even more than he had been beneath the Hylian summer sun. Everything was dark except for that upon which the rays of sunlight, sneaking in through the cracks in the dirty windows, serendipitously fell. The atmosphere smelled of history, of sorrow and grief—but he swore he could have sensed hope there, as well. An unusual, distorted hope, bred out of necessity. In the corner of the one-roomed home was a set of chimes, hanging from the ceiling. Something he remembered his own mother having back in Castilia. When they walked in, he heard the high-pitched jingles of those chimes colliding gently with each other, like a shy welcome. As his eyes adjusted, he saw a table near the door, a small bed next to a fireplace at the back of the home, and a single rocking chair.

And in that single rocking chair sat a single man.

"**May the Eye look kindly upon our meeting.**" Impa bowed her head as she gave the traditional, formal Sheikah greeting. Watching the man's crouched frame, Sheik bowed his head as well.

"**Impa...Impa, my child, is that you?"** the old man asked. His voice trembled with every letter. Sheik kept his head bowed.

**"It is I, Sahasrahla." **

The old man let out a cry of elation, brought his wrinkled hands to his mouth.

_"_**You have returned, my child, you have returned! Come, come to me.**_" _

Impa walked forward, and then knelt in front of the man in his rocking chair. Sheik could see embers in the fireplace glowing, as if the fire had just been smothered. He watched, his head still bowed, as the old man took Impa's head in his hands and kissed her forehead. A long, deep, enduring kiss, that even he could feel.

**"I was afraid that you would never return,"** he said. **"Do an old man a favor and light that candle, yes?"**

**"I vowed to return, did I not?"**Impa said as she lit the candle standing on the table. The man, Sahasrahla, nodded, his smile growing broader. And then, as if only just then noticing, he turned to look at Sheik. Now he could see him clearly in the yellow light of the candle. The man's eyes were like rubies, the skin of his face folding in wrinkles. His hair was gray and falling around his face in thin, breaking strands. But what stood out the most about this man were the tattoos. Sheik had never seen so many, even for other Sheikah. They embellished his forehead, his eyelids, down his cheeks and his jawbone and even his lips. When he lifted his quaking hands, Sheik saw them there, too. Some red, some white, some pure black. He looked as if he could have been the very first Sheikah.

**"Hello, child,"** he greeted. **"Do you understand what I am saying to you?"**

Sheik bowed his head and nodded.

**"I understand,"** he said. His tongue felt a strange sensation then. He hadn't spoken Sheikah in over seven years, and yet it came so swiftly to his lips.

**"What is your name, my son?" **

**"Sheik. My name is Sheik." **

**"Ah, so you **_**must**_** be Sheikah,"**the old man laughed. His entire body shook. **"Though your eyes did give that away much earlier. Come closer, Sheik."**

With hesitant footsteps, Sheik crossed the warm, dark room until he stood where Impa had just recently stood, directly in front of this man. He wasn't sure whether to bend or stand or crouch, but he figured he would be safe and get on his knees. This man was so short that it was the only way for him to truly look him in the eyes. He placed his hands on Sheik's cheeks and lifted his face, then lowered the wraps that covered his nose and mouth. When he saw Sheik's face in its entirety, adorned with tattoos not dissimilar to his, he tilted his head and smiled.

_Looks like that cat I saw earlier._

**"I recognize your face,"** Sahasrahla mused. As if speaking to himself. **"I've seen it in my dreams many times." **

** "My face?"** Sheik replied. **"You've seen **_**my**_** face in **_**your**_** dreams?" **

The man nodded, and took his hands from Sheik's cheeks.

**"Just after the war ended 34 years ago, when I was younger and cooler,"** he teased with a grin. **"That's when I began to see your face, my son. And now you are here in front of me. The Eye truly has looked kindly upon our meeting." **

Sheik, unsure what to make of this situation, blinked a few times, nodded awkwardly, and then stood up beside Impa. His heart was beating faster than was normal, he felt every few moments that he couldn't breathe, and the tears had returned. Just looking into the eyes of this man put them there. Like a trigger. The chimes jingled again.

**"Sahasrahla,"** Impa began. She sounded so natural speaking in that tongue. **"You know why I am here, yes? Why I have returned?" **

** "Yes, I know. You have come for the Truth. The time has come to regain what was lost and restore what was taken." **

Impa had said something similar about the Triforce, Sheik realized. He was beginning to feel suffocated. Terribly suffocated.

**"You have not changed a bit, Impa. Standing here before me, you seem as if you are still eighteen years old." **

Impa bowed her head, and Sheik could have sworn he saw her smile waver. Tremble. If only for a single moment.

**"Neither have you, Sahasrahla."**

** "This boy. Why have you brought him here? From my dreams into reality?"**

** "He is here to be tested. To find the Truth for himself." **

** "Quite a task, is it not?" **

** "It is,"** Impa said, **"but it is the only way to ascertain his role." **

Sahasrahla paused, and looked Sheik in the eyes. Then looked over his entire body, his eyes narrowed and almost menacing. Sheik had that weird feeling again—the feeling of being someone else's play toy, created only for that person's amusement.

**"Yes. Yes, I understand now. I will give you the key to the well."**

** "Thank you, Sahasrahla." **Impa bowed her head again, so Sheik imitated her. Mention of the well made his blood run cold. He had heard stories about the well in Kakariko from his childhood; bedtime stories told by the adults to scare the younger children. He could remember his terror. It was returning to him like the tide to the sandy shore.

**"You cannot go until midnight. Stay here until then. I have a pot of stew in the fireplace if you are hungry. When the night is dark and the streets are empty, go to the well. Leave it only when you have found the Truth,"** Sahasrahla said.

Impa nodded, moved to the wall, and then sat down with her back against it.

**"I am going to sleep until then,"** she said. Before Sheik could say anything, ask any more questions, her eyes were closed and her breathing was slowed and she was asleep. Leaving him and the ancient Sheikah man alone together.

**"Tell me, Sheik,"** he began, **"do you like stories?" **

After a moment's silence, a moment's reluctance egged on by the dancing of his nerves beneath his skin, Sheik finally relented. He sat down cross-legged in front of this man, tried to relax his muscles and steady his breathing and look at him with clear eyes.

**"Yes. I like stories." **

** "Good." **He winked. **"Because I have a whole lot of them I've been dying to tell."**

* * *

Before the war, Kakariko was a haven. Actually, during the war and even after the war, for a little while. Queen Priscilda—perhaps you remember her, you're not too young for that—was relatively kind to us after our defeat in the war. Arielda wasn't really. No, that queen was merciless. Zelda takes after her grandmother. Her mother was a gentle soul, left to take a crumbling kingdom onto her shoulders. Anyway, I'm losing track. Seems I tend to do that a lot when I'm telling stories. When you first walked in, what was the first thing you thought of?

Ghosts.

That's interesting. Never heard that one before, but it's true enough. You have a special eye about you, don't you? Well, you're Sheikah, after all. I shouldn't be surprised, even in my old age. Kakariko wasn't always like this. Perhaps you've heard the stories from other Sheikah you knew. I was born here sixty years before the war, lived here during the six years that war waged on, and have lived here for the thirty-four years since. I've seen its changes. Do you know what it was like before the war?

Yes. But I want you to tell me again.

Very good, because I want to tell it again! In a place like this, an old man like me doesn't get many chances to tell his stories. I'll start by explaining the history. The basics. I assume you know most of the history of Kakariko—thousands of years ago, it was a Sheikah settlement founded by a proud and strong Sheikah. After whom Impa over there is named. She built it from the ground up and transformed it from a Sheikah settlement to a haven for all. The Hylians helped, you know. Since its establishment, Kakariko has been known as a sort of a refuge for people of all walks of life, looking to find someplace to run when crises strike. And Kakariko has always welcomed them with open arms. But first and foremost, it has been for hundreds and hundreds of years, a home to the Sheikah people. One of our heroes, the founder, was a Sheikah. We followed her here. And we've built our people and our culture here, because we don't truly have a land to call our own. Not like the Zoras or the Gorons, with their mountains and their seas.

I used to read stories about the ancient Kakariko. They were so fantastical I always thought they were fairy tales.

Well, sometimes we embellish things, but they're all true for the most part, my son. Do you want to hear about what it looked like before the war?

Yes, very much.

I'll tell you about it. You know, the lay of the land. The terrain was the same. Not much greenery, I'm afraid. We are at the base of the mountains that span the Goron territory, and the air tends to be too dry for anything to grow. But we managed well. We had great relationships with other cities, especially the Gorons. But the buildings—you should have seen them. How old are you?

Twenty.

Ah, so you were born long after the war had already ended. I suppose you never would have had the chance to see it in its glory days, huh? The buildings were tall and made of bricks and wood and you could see them from miles. But what you could really see, what people knew us for, was the windmill. It rose up right from the center of the city, from the ruins you see there now. And when the wind blew, its propellers turned and turned and turned, and played a little song. The entire village could hear it—could see it. The Sheikah would gather around the windmill and link arms and sway with the wind, humming along with that mysterious melody. It always came from inside the windmill. But nobody ever dared go inside. That would destroy its sanctity, you understand.

I've seen pictographs of that windmill.

Have you? Well, it's quite a sight to see, isn't it?

Sure is.

We were such a strong people then. United in body and soul and purpose. The Sheikah, as a people, were _incredibly_ loyal to the Royal Family. We'd vowed, for centuries and centuries, to protect them with our lives. Because we felt that was the duty the goddesses had bestowed upon us. We still believe that is our duty...but in current circumstances, we cannot bring ourselves to vow loyalty to the crown and maintain our pride. We were pretty traditional, though, I will admit that. Tended to look down upon the Hylians and their frivolous ways. But we got along pretty well in general, I'd say. A good number of Hylians did live here, after all. When cities burned down, when bandits or pirates or thieves raided homes and pillaged towns, they all came here. Because they knew we would welcome them. After the war, of course, everything changed. Kakariko became this...well, this city of ghosts, as you so eloquently put it.

How come?

You see, when Queen Arielda began her attacks, we saw it as an evil omen. We did not believe her rule to follow the divine laws the goddesses had set for us.

Who decided that?

I did.

_You_ did?

I was the elder of Kakariko. Still am, I suppose. But I was considered the sage, the lord of all things holy in this place. And I could feel in my bones that Queen Arielda was not right. The others agreed with me. But we...we did not have an army. Not like the mighty Gorons, the elegant Zoras, the ruthless Hylians and the clever Gerudos. But we are strong, capable people. I can see just by looking at your body that you understand what I mean. When we fight, we win. We became a thorn in the queen's side. While the other races fought to defend their land...we rebelled in Queen Arielda's _own_ land. We led the troops against her here. We became guerilla fighters, weakening her armies as they tried to conquer far away lands. So you must understand that once the war ended...once we had lost...

If what you say is true, that Zelda takes after her grandmother, I can't imagine that Queen Arielda was very forgiving.

No, you're right. She was not. Especially because the Sheikah have always vowed to stay loyal to the crown. In her eyes—in the eyes of all Hylians—we broke a sacred promise. I'm sure you know the story from there. The slow destruction of our culture and our people, as a continuing punishment for our rebellion.

But you said that even after the war, Kakariko was stronger than now.

Yes. But as the years passed, we became weaker and weaker...most of us remained here, in Kakariko, but some maintained their homes or fled to Castilia.

Like my parents.

Yes, like your parents. Living and working and loving there, in the capital city. But even there, life was difficult. The Hylians felt that we were traitors, feared that we might rise up in rebellion once again. They could not understand that what we did, we did out of self-defense.

Yeah. You're right.

And you know what happened seven years ago, I assume.

I was there, yeah.

A terrible day in our history. On the day after Queen Zelda's fifteenth birthday, riots broke out all over the Hylian Cities, calling for the extermination of the Sheikah people. Extremists, you could say. Their entire neighborhood in Castilia was obliterated. And here, our crumbling city became even weaker. That was essentially the last attack we could handle. Now we are here.

Did you fight in the war, Sahasrahla?

No, my son, no. I am not a fighter. Never have been. I remained here and provided support for my wounded people. But I think that, even away from the battlefield, I have seen more than any warrior could in a lifetime of war.

I think you're right.

The people...they were so sorrowful at times. Other times, they glowed with hope and optimism. I tried to foster that glow, you see. But it was difficult. I remember one incident as if it were yesterday. A father threw himself down at my feet, tears streaming down his face. He asked me if his daughter would survive the war. He asked me if there was anything I—or anyone—could do to help her. I have never seen an adult cry like that, shaking with sobs as he prostrated himself before me as if I were a god. He told me he had not seen her in four years, did not know if she was dead or alive. He begged me for things I could not give him. I tried to tell him that if she had died, he would have felt it...but how could I be sure of that? I have never been a father myself. I could not feel the pain that he was feeling at that moment. Could not understand what it would be like to say, I have not seen my daughter in four years.

Hey, Sahasrahla. Do you still think about the war a lot?

Oh, my dear child. What a question. I have been thinking about the war every second of every day since the moment it was waged. It is not something easily forgotten. For some...it is the only thing that has ever existed.


	32. Iron Fist

**enjoy this chappie loves**

**and plz excuse me while i bury myself in finals**

**bye**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-One

Iron Fist

The four them, each of a different race but all of the same goal, rode along the path that led to the very, very north of the Hylian Cities. None of them had ever been very far north of Castilia, so they were following the map religiously. Shad had drawn for them a path—there were three of them going in different directions that would lead up to the Snowhead Mountains. Shad had directed them to the path that ran furthest from the river, to the east. Cities and villages were always concentrated more closely to the river, and the Iron Warriors were always concentrated more closely to the cities. And even with their fake papers and their 'clean' records, Iron Warriors were always to be avoided. There would be only two checkpoints for them to pass through compared to ten times as many near the river.

Link rode on Epona, holding the map with two hands in front of him, occasionally moving it so he could check the path. For the first time in so long, he felt a strange freedom. Any time he rode Epona, with trust pulsing through him, he felt this freedom. When he put his hand on her neck, he could feel her soul colliding with his. When he looked into her eyes and heard her whinny, he felt something so intimate, so unique. They rode together with a certain rhythm. He could have ridden her for miles with his eyes closed and have not a single worry.

"You're my pretty girl, aren't you, baby?" he cooed quietly, stroking her mane every few moments obliviously. Beside him, Raazi and Anowaika rode on a black gelding named Flare—a fairly old horse, but a capable horse if Link had ever seen one. Anowaika rode in front, looking around in awe at the rolling hills of the flourishing Hylian Cities, while Raazi sat behind. She had her arms wrapped around Ano's waist and her cheek against her back. Her eyes were closed. In between them walked Vukan, mighty and obvious. Large bags filled with all their luggage hung on the horses' saddles and over Vukan's back.

"Raazi, you all right?" Link called. She gently shook her head, muttered a Gerudic incantation softly.

"I think she's feeling some motion sickness," Ano whispered.

"I hate horses," she mumbled. As Link chuckled, Ano turned and looked at her over her shoulder.

"Aren't Gerudos really famous for their horse-breeding and stuff?" she laughed.

"Not where I am from."

Link looked back at his map. They would be approaching their first checkpoint by nightfall and spend the night. From there, they would reach the bottom of Snowhead by noon tomorrow. He turned over his shoulder, cautiously, and saw the silhouettes of Hyrule Castle and Castilia's grand walls beginning to disappear. It felt both refreshing and frightening.

_What am I doing here?_

The path was not empty, but it certainly wasn't as crowded as he imagined the main road to be. They passed merchant caravans, other travelers, what looked like scholars and laborers of every walk of life. The rich, the poor, people who it seemed had no business being anywhere north of the capital. Life became more spaced out, cities less populated, as one moved north. The cold weather and harsh snows tended to keep people away. But it was known that in the heart of the mountains lived only the strongest people, who trained and worked and lived off their own strength and wit in a world that, probably, was constantly trying to kill them. Link had heard a lot about Snowhead, and was anxious to see it for himself.

In fact, he had heard a lot about many different places in Hyrule. And he was anxious to see it all for himself, he realized.

"So," Anowaika began. "Do you...do you have any plans?"

Link shook his head.

"We're just gonna go and see what happens?"

He nodded.

"All right," she sighed. "But we'll need to find some type of body of water before then. I'll need to rehydrate."

"There should be something like that at the checkpoint," he responded. His answer was more curt than he had meant; he was lost in his own thoughts, not truly paying attention to what Ano was saying. He grabbed his canteen from the side of Epona's saddle and took a swig of water. They walked on in silence. Link with his map and his thoughts, Anowaika with her meandering smile, Vukan with his massiveness, and Raazi with her nausea.

On they marched, a misfit band of underground rebels, in search of a mysterious golden relic.

_An adventure, I guess._

They reached the checkpoint, where different travelers were beginning to set up camp, by nightfall. It was a small checkpoint, populated with tents and campfires for the passersby to use on their travels. Most of the people at the checkpoint were, as Link had assumed, headed south to the capital. There were Iron Warriors stationed at the entrances on either side of the checkpoint, in their armor and with their spears and their blank, cold stares. As they neared the line to enter, Link dismounted and shoved the map into his pocket. Epona began bobbing her head up and down—a cry for attention, yes—and he gave her a few sugar cubes he had hidden in his bag. Beside him, Anowaika hopped off Flare, and then Vukan gently lifted Raazi and helped her to the ground. She swayed a bit, put her hand to her head, and then was able to stand on her own. She was extremely pale.

"Geez, you _really_ don't like horses," Ano said. Raazi merely shook her head, taking her bag from Flare's saddle. She still looked nauseated. Link and Ano exchanged expressions that were a combination of concern and amusement.

"We all have our papers?" he asked. Everyone nodded and pulled out their identification papers. "Weapon registries?" They pulled out those, too. Link was satisfied, except for the fact that he had no licorice and no milk, and they got in line. There was bound to be some licorice inside—some milk with honey, and a nice dinner. There were always merchants at these checkpoints. Or so he'd heard.

Anowaika went first. The Iron Warrior looked her over, glanced furtively at her spear, took her papers.

"Anowaika, full-blooded Sea Zora, from...Castilia?" he said.

"That's right," she smiled.

"Where are you from originally, though?" he asked. "It's not written here." She scrunched up her face, confused.

"Um...Castilia?"

"I mean which _isle_, Miss. Which _isle_ are you from?"

"I already told you, I'm from Castilia. Born and raised there. I'm not from any isle. I am Castilian."

There was a heavy silence for a few moments. For those few moments, Link felt a strange fear plunge through his heart. He had seen Iron Warriors do some ridiculous things.

"All right, go on ahead. Next."

Anowaika thanked him, flashed another smile, grabbed Flare's reins, and walked in.

Vukan was next. In the same fashion, he handed the Iron Warrior his papers, but had no weapon. The Iron Warrior looked over his papers.

"Vukan, full-blooded Goron, from the city of Onwugwu in the Goron Mountains?"

Vukan gave his signature nod.

"Currently a resident of Castilia?"

He nodded again.

"No weapons with you?"

He shook his head. Link wasn't worried about Vukan. Only the stupidest of Iron Warriors would think about taking on a Goron as giant as he was.

"All right, go ahead in. Next."

Raazi was next. And Raazi definitely made Link nervous. Not because of _her_, but because of the nature of these checkpoints. As soon as she stepped forward, reaching her papers out, the Iron Warrior looked her over and took on a different demeanor.

"Gerudo," he said, without even looking at her papers. "Full-blooded."

"You are perceptive," she smiled. He scoffed and took her papers.

"Sheh...Shah...um...?"

"Scheherazade," she said. The proper pronunciation of her name.

"Yeah, right," he sighed. "Travelling from Castilia?"

"Yes."

"To?"

"Snowhead Mountains."

"For what reason?"

"A beautiful place to see in the summer, no?" she smiled. The Iron Warrior paused, but then continued his questions.

"How long will you be staying?"

"I do not know."

"Do you know anybody there?"

"No."

"Where will you be staying?"

"I suppose I will know once I am there."

He didn't seem to like her answers, but Raazi stood her ground. Link stuck his hands in his pockets and watched the scene unfold.

"Okay. And it says here you are originally from Tantari, in the Gerudo Deserts."

"That is right."

"Funny, I haven't heard of that city," he snorted.

"It is very small. More a village."

"Right." He was laughing to himself now. "Why did you come to Castilia?"

"For work."

"Mhmm, right," he said. "I'm going to have to check your bags."

"Please, go ahead," she smiled. She handed him her bag, which he began to sift through. Shamelessly—going through her things, taking out her jewelry and her make-up and her clothes. Like a thief, before finally tossing the bag back to her.

"No weapons registered?"

"These daggers." When she showed them to the Iron Warrior, he looked at her papers with skepticism. Glanced at the daggers anxiously.

"How did you get the license for these?" he asked. "From a Castilian weapons registry?"

"Where else?"

"Hmph." He handed her the papers back and finally stepped aside. "Fine, you can go in. Next."

Raazi turned over her shoulder and gave Link a comforting smile before following Vukan and Anowaika into the checkpoint. He nodded to her, and stepped forward with his papers.

"Uh...Ravio, full-blooded Hylian, from Ordon?"

"Yup."

"Current resident in Ordon as well?"

"Uh-huh."

"That's that cute little town in the south, yeah? Near Faron Woods?"

"Um. Sure."

"Any weapons registered?"

"Yeah, three." Link was about to hand the Iron Warrior his papers, but he shook his head.

"I don't need to see the registries. You can go on in."

The four of them gathered near a tent that seemed empty and set up their things there. They tied the horses to a nearby post and lit the fire, decided that they would definitely need to buy some sturdy coats on the road tomorrow.

"Well, that was fun," Anowaika sighed. They were sitting outside the tent, around a small campfire. "Anyone hungry? I'm _starving_. I can cook—Vukan, why don't you go buy some supplies for dinner from that merchant caravan over there. I actually have to go find some water, I'm starting to feel a bit dehydrated, relax there for a bit. And then—"

"Breathe, little fish, breathe," Raazi interrupted with a grin. "Do what you need. We will wait here." Anowaika let out a deep breath and nodded.

"Great. Be back ASAP. C'mon, Vukan."

Vukan stood up wordlessly and followed Anowaika. Raazi and Link remained, watching the flames of the campfire dance.

"They did not question your papers," she said. "That is good. Our little cat did well."

"Yeah." He put his hands behind his head and stared up at the sky. The stars were beginning to come out, and the sky was a strange blue-orange color. "Definitely questioned yours."

"I expected so," she said. He glanced over at her. There was a soft smile on her blood-red lips. "They always do."

"Assholes. Didn't see him check anyone else's bag."

Raazi chuckled and leaned forward, elbows on her knees. Like she was thinking about something casual, fleeting. Unimportant.

"I come from a race of thieves, after all," she sighed. She'd said it so softly, in such a relaxed tone, that Link didn't really understand it at first. After it had registered, he still wasn't really sure what to say. "To the Hylians, at least."

He turned his gaze back to the sky and they sat in silence. He was tired. He knew she was tired. He really just wanted to eat whatever Anowaika was ready to cook for them and go to sleep. Wake up refreshed, go on this 'adventure' while trying to forget about this strange shadow that seemed to be following him. A cloud perpetually over his head. A ball and chain wrapped around his ankle.

Anowaika and Vukan came back, she looking refreshed and he with raw fish, potatoes, and beets. As if she had been waiting for this moment for ages, Anowaika pulled out a few small pots from her blue shoulder back and propped them up over the fire. She was talking, telling them about the little pond just outside the checkpoint—about how she'd met other Zoras there, had pleasant conversations. All while the scent of the fish ran in and out of their nostrils and Vukan sucked on a stone he had found near the tent. Epona and Flare whinnied behind them. Link enjoyed Anowaika's rants. It seemed that she could talk fifty miles per hour for days, which meant that he didn't have to say anything, didn't really have to react. He could just sit and listen to her watery voice going on and on. He ate in silence, while Ano talked, Vukan sat like a statue, and Raazi took off her make-up. With a small handkerchief and a bottle of some strange liquid, she wiped everything from her eyes and her lips.

Raazi, Link, and Anowaika slept inside the tent, while Vukan slept and stood as the guard directly outside. They all slept surprisingly well, hardly tossing and turning at all. At one point in the middle of the night, Anowaika left to take a dip in the pond (and probably relieve herself), but other than that, they were silent and still. Mentally preparing themselves for the next day, when their true search would begin.

But, of course, Link didn't sleep at all. Not with so much darkness. He wrapped a blanket around his shoulders and walked outside when everybody else was asleep, strode past the dozing Vukan, over to where Epona was tied. He climbed onto her bare back, leaned forward until his cheek was pressed against her and his dangling arms could stroke her sleek coat. She neighed and bobbed her head, welcoming him. He smiled and blinked with his droopy eyes and felt her warmth. Epona was good at calming his nerves.

_The first of eight pieces,_ Link told himself. _We've got a long way to go._

* * *

They woke up early the next morning. Most of the other travelers who had stopped at the checkpoint were waking up at the same time, gathering their things, having sleepy early morning conversation. Link was silent as he packed up and had his moments with Epona. Raazi was sitting cross-legged on the ground, eyes closed, murmuring to herself. She had woken up much earlier than all of them to, Link assumed, apply all her make-up and put on her jewelry. Vukan, it seemed, didn't have much to pack, and was still sleeping. Anowaika had her bag slung over her shoulder, her spear on her back, and was speaking to a nearby group of Zoras who seemed to be travelling south. Talking as if she had known them for years, her smile radiating more than the morning sunlight. There was a strange feeling hanging in the air. Uncertainty, but with a beautiful mist surrounding them.

When they were ready, Link checked the map, and they prepared to mount their horses. But just as Link grabbed her reins, put his foot in the stirrup, he heard a scream. The shrill, shocked scream of a woman nearby. He froze and turned to where it had come from. The entire checkpoint fell silent. There, in the center of the field, was a group of Iron Warriors. Beneath them, on the ground, was a young man with a bloody face. Link could see from his golden eyes that he had to have been half-Gerudo. Trying to help him up was a young girl—his wife or sister, perhaps.

"That'll teach you talk to us like that, dirty half-breed," one Iron Warrior sneered.

"Please, he didn't mean it," the woman began. Her voice was frazzled and shaking. "He's just tired from travelling, and—"

"Don't speak for me, Leen," the man said hoarsely, wiping blood from his lip. "I meant what I said, and I would say it again, Hylian dogs."

At that, the Iron Warrior who had spoken kicked the man, insulted him, spat on him, causing the woman to let out another scream.

"_Please, stop!"_

Link, with clenched fists and tense muscles, removed his foot from the stirrup and began walking toward them. Not really thinking about what he was doing, just following his instincts. Ready to give the Iron Warriors a piece of his mind. But before he could take more than two steps, Anowaika was in front of him, both of her hands on his chest, pushing him back.

"No, Link! Don't," she said.

"Out of my way, Ano."

"I won't."

"So I should just sit and watch?"

"Yes," Raazi said. She had appeared beside Anowaika, a ferocious expression in her eyes. "That is exactly what you should do."

"I've seen enough of this in Castilia. I'm gonna stop it here if I can help it. That could have been you, Raaz."

"We must not sketch attention to ourselves."

"Draw attention, Raazi," Ano corrected. "But she's right. It's hard for all of us to watch, okay? But we can't get involved. It's not a good idea, in our situation."

Without another word, as if he hadn't even heard them, he pushed Ano's arms aside and walked past them. He was not about to let this slide, not about to let an innocent man who had finally decided to speak his mind get attacked by pompous warriors who had had too many people tell them how skilled they were. He walked with purpose, fists at his side, could feel the eyes of all those people watching him. But before he could get much further, he felt five giant fingers grab onto the back of his vest and lift him slightly off the ground, until he could not move and could not resist. He turned over his shoulder and saw Vukan, holding him up by his shirt, a dull look in his black eyes.

"Even you?" he murmured. Vukan closed his eyes for a moment and shook his head. Link had no choice but to take a deep breath, watch as the woman apologized and bowed her head and led the injured man away—watch as the Iron Warriors stood taller and watched them go.

_I hate them._

Then, still fuming, they mounted their horses and left the checkpoint, bound for the Snowhead Mountains.


	33. The Dead Still Scream

**what...? a chapter with action?! WOW**

**in other news i am officially halfway done with college waaaaaat ew adulthood is on the horizon nuuu**

**anywho enjoy**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Two

The Dead Still Scream

Sheik listened to Sahasrahla's stories until midnight, when Impa opened her eyes and stood up. He knew, as she walked over to where they sat across from each other, that the time had come to go to the well. Sheik was not generally a very frightened person—he was confident, in most situations, that he could handle anything that was thrown at him. But at that very moment, he felt such an overwhelming pang of fear.

_Can't I just stay and listen to the old man's stories,_ he thought. But he knew better than to actually say something like that. In his silence, he stood up and looked first at Impa, then back at Sahasrahla. The old man nodded up at him, a grateful gleam in his eyes.

**"You have done a good deed today,"** he said, **"humoring an old man." **

** "Not at all. I want to hear all the stories you have to tell." **

** "Well, that means you'll have to come back and see me, doesn't it?" **he winked. Sheik smiled and bowed his head, felt his sweaty strands of hair sticking to his cheeks. As soon as Impa had stood up, the air had changed again. She had a weird way of doing that. Being able to command the atmosphere to her liking. Apparently, she wanted an atmosphere of uncertainty and dread in the air, and so that was what Sheik felt. He realized then that with Impa was the first time he had felt helpless in the past 12 years. Truly, utterly at someone else's command. It made him sick to his stomach.

**"Where is the key, Sahasrahla?"** Impa asked. With his shaky hands, the elder pointed to the table by his chair. Only then did Sheik see the drawer that was attached to it. Impa opened it and pulled out a large black key, almost as long as her forearm. It was rusting and decrepit, its head shaped like a skull. Sahasrahla nodded.

**"Go to the well. Impa, if you truly haven't changed, then you know exactly what you are doing." **

** "Of course I do."**

** "Very well. My child...why don't you go outside for a moment? I'd like to have a word with Sheik in private." **

Impa looked to Sheik with narrowed eyes, gripping the key with her bony fingers and breathing out through her nose. Finally, while Sheik held his own breath, she gave Sahasrahla a curt nod and left the room so quickly that Sheik hardly had time to blink before he heard the door close. He crouched back down, until he was eye-level with the old man.

**"Listen, my son, and listen well," **he began. His tone had changed. Sheik gritted his teeth and stared straight into his glassy eyes. **"Do not take what you're about to do lightly. For you, its importance is unimaginable right now. But in time, you'll understand." **

** "This test," **Sheik interjected. **"What does it mean?" **

Sahasrahla sighed and averted his gaze to the door out of which Impa had just exited.

**"In time—"**

** "In time I'll understand,"** Sheik finished, exasperated. He had trouble relinquishing to the fact that he would not get answers any time soon, neither from Sahasrahla nor from Impa. He supposed he would have to go through this test blind, with nothing but trust in these two.

_And the only reason I have to trust them is because their race is the same as mine._

He did not like his situation. Sheik was generally okay with surprises, generally okay with not knowing too much about his circumstances. He was resourceful and could make do with what he had with relative ease in a moment's notice. But now, it seemed, the situation was about _him._ He was now the subject of discourse, the experiment being tested. He just wasn't sure.

**"Sheik," **Sahasrahla said. **"You **_**must**_** trust Impa. Trust in her abilities to guide you, in her abilities to protect you and lead you. I understand how you must be feeling—lost and confused. And Impa, with her harsh exterior, I admit, does not do much to alleviate that. But release yourself to her, and you will discover something deeper. Just as she will discover in you if you let her. Do you understand me, Shadow Child?" **

Sheik nodded. He stood up, replaced the wrap around his mouth and nose, but didn't bother picking up his cloak. He had already grown bored of it.

**"Thank you, Sahasrahla,"** he said. **"I'll try not to disappoint you."** It felt like an empty promise. The old man's stories still rushing around in Sheik's head, he moved toward the door. Just before he walked out of the home, Sahasrahla opened his mouth and said one more thing. And he said it with a tender smile on his lips.

**"Give Impa time, Sheik. Give her time. And, more importantly, give yourself time. Good luck."**

* * *

Impa, the key still in her hands, began moving as soon as Sheik was outside of Sahasrahla's home. She walked with such purpose, as if she had been preparing for this moment her entire life. The night seemed darker here than in Castilia, Sheik mused. Less blue, more black. And definitely less people, almost no artificial lighting. He thought of Karis, how amazed he would be in such an intimate atmosphere. As terrifying as it was, Karis would take in every single detail with a beautiful smile on his face. Just as he always did.

Sheik knew that nobody would be out this time of night. He followed Impa without a problem, watching her legs step swiftly, one after the other, past the homes back the way they came, to the ruins of the windmill in the center of the village. He looked up for just a moment, and could hardly see any stars. Which was strange. It was so utterly dark.

_I know they're there. Guess we can't see them from here. They don't shine for us._

When they reached the central plaza, where the eerie remains of the windmill stood pathetically, Impa took a sharp right turn. There was a small alcove there, practically hidden from view from the perspective of someone walking on the main road. Sheik had seen it, of course, but hadn't paid it much attention. They walked along a dirt path that went slightly upward, but only for a moment. Almost instantly, they found themselves upon the well. It was perfectly circular and built of stone, with decaying woodwork. The top was covered by a wooden door. Moss grew in between the stones, bugs crept in and out, and as Sheik looked at it, he felt his bones chill. It emanated a dark aura. Dark and evil. An aura he had never experienced before. Impa paused and they stood in silence for a few moments, before she handed him the key. He took it, grateful for the wraps around his fingers. He wasn't sure he wanted to feel the metal of the key with his own skin.

"Open it," she commanded. Sheik had decided, regardless of what Sahasrahla had said to him, that he wanted to avoid conversation with Impa as much as possible. So without a word, he slipped the key into the lock on the wooden door. Once he heard that ominous click, he pulled it open and turned his face away from the dust that exploded out from inside. Then the well was open. The aura became so strong then that Sheik almost cringed, his body nearly becoming a manifestation of his inner terrors. He felt Impa watching him.

"Do not think yourself weak for being afraid of its aura, my son," she smiled. As if reading his mind. _Scary how she does that._ "It means that your instincts are sharp. For there is unspeakable evil within this well. Evil long ago sealed away by our people."

He swallowed, wishing that her words had made him feel better, and gave her the key. She told him to keep it. Bits and pieces of the horrible, frightening stories the older kids and adults used to tell him as a child about this well flashed in his brain. He tried to push them aside.

_Stop it. You're not the strongest warrior in Hyrule for nothing. _

"You must go into the well now, Sheik. I will be there with you. But this is a test of _your_ abilities. _Your_ skills. I will be there only as guide. Go in."

He looked at her one last time, his skin crawling. The look in her eyes was so ferocious that he couldn't even think about turning around and forgetting this whole thing. Just running away. The time for running had long gone. Sheik grabbed a nearby stone and dropped it into the well, listening for its collision to see just how far the drop was. There seemed to be a ladder attached to the side of the well, but he wasn't about to use it. Once he heard that soft crash, that little beacon, he hopped onto the edge of the well and looked down.

Nothing but darkness.

_Great. Just wonderful. _

Sheik knew that once he jumped, there was no going back. But he didn't turn and look at Impa. Couldn't even look over his shoulder. The only thing he could do was take a deep breath, dig his heels into the crevices of the stones upon which he stood, and jump.

His flight through the darkness was just as quick as he had expected it to be. He landed with his knees bent, crouched so low that his braid brushed the ground beneath him. Everything was still shrouded in heavy darkness as he stood straight up and moved aside, anticipating Impa's drop. He looked up, hoping to see something from above—but it was just as black there, too. Black and dark and evil on all sides. Luckily, Sheik kept small Deku sticks with him—sticks that he had enhanced himself to last for hours. He pulled one out and ran it along the ground, and within moments, the fire had lit and he could see a bit more clearly.

When he saw what was around him, though, he almost extinguished the fire immediately. He was standing at the beginning of a long passageway that led far, far down, to a point that he couldn't see with his small torch. The walls on either side of him—and the floor beneath him—were covered in bones. Remains. Skulls of those who had come before him. Those who had been buried beneath the decimated houses of the shadowfolk, people whose bones had been left to create this monstrous place. He realized then, looking into the empty eye sockets of hundreds of rusty-white skulls, that all of the stories were true. Everything he had heard about the well was true. No exaggerations.

_What have I gotten myself into this time?_

Impa landed in much the same fashion as him, appearing directly beside him within moments. She looked around at first, drinking in her surroundings. But he could see from the look on her face that it all seemed familiar to her. She had seen it all before.

"What exactly am I looking for?" he asked.

"The Truth," she said. "It is something you'll recognize when you see it. Move forward, follow your instincts. Test yourself. When you find it, you will know."

_Yeah, yeah. Why do I bother asking these questions?_

Sheik did as he was told and began moving forward, treading lightly on this path of bones. Like an instinct, he flicked his wrist, and three needles appeared in between his fingers. Not very strong weapons—not weapons meant to kill. Weapons meant to disarm, distract. Allow for the real weapons (his own limbs) to finish the job. The sounds of his soles crushing the remains beneath him made everything in his body cold, but he kept walking. The passage seemed to go on forever, without any foreseeable end. But Sheik had been in situations like this before. His reflexes were incredible, his senses honed. As surprising as this place may be, Sheik knew he'd be ready.

And so he was, when he heard a soft moaning in the distance.

He stopped dead in his tracks, listened more closely. The moaning was so quiet, so soft. Hylian ears wouldn't have heard it. But Sheikah ears were made to hear it. As each second passed, the moaning grew slightly louder. Impa stood silently beside him, watching him listen. Watching him narrow his eyes and try to understand what that moaning meant.

_Poes?_

_ No. Poes don't make sounds like that. _

_ Some kind of animal?_

_ A weird-ass animal..._

_ Maybe just Keese?_

_ There's no way a Keese could make that noise. _

_ Then what—?_

Just then, in the light of the fire, he could see the silhouettes of approaching figures. His eyes widened, his grip on his weapons and his torch tightened, and his heart stopped.

"Redeads," he breathed.

Sheik knew how slow redeads were. But when he glanced behind him, he realized it didn't really matter. Because there was nowhere for him to go as they inched toward him, a whole horde of them, their moaning growing loader in his ears with each moment. Their eyes glowed red in the darkness, their open mouths lined with sharp teeth, as if to scream out. Eerie brown skin covered their angled bones, so tight that he could see every single rib jutting out. They looked in perpetual agony, almost begging him to release them from their curse. And he knew that the closer they got, the more likely they were to scream at him—a scream he had never heard for himself, but knew had the power to paralyze. His brain began working, twisting and turning ideas and strategies in his head, while his heart beat faster and faster; but he realized at that point that he was going to have to rely on instinct for most of this.

_It's a good thing my instincts are well trained. _

Sheik put the lit Deku stick in his mouth so that he could use both of his hands but still have light. He flicked his other wrist, until there were three needles in that hand, too. Six total. He glanced back at Impa. She stood still, her arms crossed, watching him silently. When their eyes met, she nodded to him. That was his cue. Sheik faced forward at the approaching redeads, leaped backward and, while airborne, swung his arms in front of him and released the needles. They landed exactly where he wanted them to—the eyes of six different redeads. Those six halted in their tracks, arching backward as if through honey. They flailed their arms, grasping for the needles in their eyes, but in vain.

Then, after realizing there was nothing much they could do, they continued marching forward. Sheik had had time to count them by then. Thirteen total.

_What is the only thing that will kill redeads?_

Sheik knew he didn't have time to really think, and had to act. And if he let them push him backward, it would only cause him trouble later. His only choice, then, was to push _them_ back. To move forward. And that was what he did.

Sheik crouched low to the ground and began sprinting toward them, so quickly that the fire in the Deku stick became extinguished. He didn't need it anymore. He had had enough time to memorize the battle scene, and his eyes would be accustomed soon enough. The eyes of the redeads provided him enough for the time being. He jumped forward, placed the sole of his foot on the chest of the leading redead, and pushed off. Its moan grew louder as its back arched and Sheik flipped, landing back on his feet. But the redead straightened up again as if it hadn't even been touched. Teeth clenched, Sheik moved forward once again, ready to try a different approach.

He didn't have the chance. For as soon as he was close to the redead again, they stopped, all at once opened their mouths even wider, and screamed.

Sheik felt his entire body shut down, felt it paralyzed from his head to his toes, trembling ever so slightly. He had never wanted to cover his ears so badly in his entire life. It seemed, for that split second, that he was dying. That his soul was departing from his weak, agonized body. And the redeads took advantage of his momentary paralysis. The one in front leaped forward with a screech, with speed that Sheik hadn't seen before. It wrapped its arms around him in a grip tighter even than death, wrapped its legs around his hips, so close that he could smell its rotten flesh, could feel it against his skin. He wanted to scream himself, unable to even discern the type of pain that he was feeling—like his energy was being sucked from him.

_I don't have time for this bullshit._

Sheik closed his eyes, blocked everything out...everything except for the blood pulsing through his limbs. The pulsing of his muscles. Then he opened his eyes again, reached up and grabbed the arms of the redead, and flipped it over his back and onto the ground. As soon as that one was down, the next was there, leaping toward him. Before it could latch on, Sheik sidestepped in the blink of an eye, and brought his elbow down on the back of the redead's neck. It too fell to the ground. But he knew they would get up. A third redead attacked—and a fourth was right behind it. He reloaded his needles and released them, watching as they embedded themselves into the redeads' necks. The others opened their mouths again, and he realized they were about to scream.

But he was ready this time.

When the sound rang out, just as terrible as the first time, Sheik's body knew what was about to happen, and it resisted. He focused utterly on the movement of his body, and was paralyzed for only a split second before he was able to move again. He decided to get behind the horde, catch them off guard. He flipped into the air and, bouncing from the head of one redead to another, landed behind the group. Then he remembered, realizing that his weapons and his hands would do nothing to exterminate the redeads, the true killer of these zombies. The only way to put these lost souls out of their misery.

_Fire. _

Moving quickly, wanting to avoid hearing another one of those terrible screeches, Sheik took out five of his Deku sticks, lit all of them, and threw them into the very center of the horde of redeads as quickly as he could. Just before they landed, he caught a glimpse of Impa on the other side. She had not moved an inch from her previous position—seemed completely unaffected by their infamous shrieks. Then the fire caught and spread as if through a forest, running along the skin of one redead and then another and then another. They screamed terrible screams, screams of pain and agony and pure, raw suffering. Sheik stood and watched them burn, watched them crumble to the ground and, finally, disintegrate into a pile of despairing ashes.

"Well done," Impa said, walking up beside him. "But the worst is yet to come."

Sheik stared at her, tried to hide his heavy breathing. The images he had just seen were not ones he would soon forget, of that he was certain.

"Yeah," he replied, "I figured you'd say that."


	34. Shadow Blood

**hey look another chapter yaaaay**

**no i'm not obsessed with sheik why do you ask**

**(but srsly wHY DO THEY NOT INCLUDE HIM IN ANOTHER CANON GAME HE IS AMAZE BALLS UGGHH RIOT)**

**enjoy**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Three

Shadow Blood

Sheik didn't bother lighting another Deku stick. He just walked, letting his eyes adjust to the darkness. He walked tenderly, kept close to the wall as a guide. He preferred not being able to see the gritty details all around him. The bones and the skulls staring at him. He could almost hear their lost voices, crying out for redemption. Sheik hoped that if he closed his eyes for long enough, he'd open them and find that it was all just a nightmare. A practical joke the goddesses had decided to play on his poor little mind. But it was no dream. He was in reality, walking through the winding underground passageways of the most terrifying place in Sheikah lore.

As he walked, vaguely aware of Impa's presence behind him, he prayed that they wouldn't run into any other redeads. Other monsters he'd be okay with it (he thought). But redeads made his skin crawl. Their red eyes bore straight into his soul and when they screamed, the entire world spun. He didn't want to experience that again. He kept his fists clenched and his muscles tense as he walked, surrounded by this heavy darkness. Every few minutes, an earth-shattering rumble erupted through the passageway, and he would stop while everything shook. Like someone was banging on a huge, soundless gong that shook everything. And he couldn't help but notice Impa's stoicism. Walking with her arms crossed, staring straight ahead. Not even the most remote sign of fear on her person.

_Is she even real...?_

Then, he finally got a glimpse of her abilities, when he saw a pair of red eyes glowing directly behind her. He wasn't sure how, and he wasn't sure when, but a redead had appeared. As if coming up from the ground behind her. He saw it opening its mouth, preparing to scream.

"Impa—" he began, but he was cut off. Its screech filled the passage and, though Sheik was prepared and had learned his lesson the first time, he was still paralyzed for a moment in the monster's furious wake. But Impa didn't even flinch. The scream washed off her like water. Not a blink, not a sound.

Before the redead could even lift its emaciated arms, Impa whipped what looked like a glorified butcher's knife from her waist, swung it behind her with one hand, and took the redead's head off with a single blow. All while still staring straight ahead, not even turning her face. The head of the redead rolled up to Sheik's feet, and he stared down at it with an open mouth. Impa twirled the knife once and put it back in its place.

"You...what the hell was that?" he breathed. Redeads were known to have skin tougher than iron, nearly impossible to cut through. He had never heard of decapitating one. Impa just looked at him.

"Art," she said. He didn't want her to explain anymore, didn't want to hear what kind of crazy answers she would give to his perfectly normal questions. So they continued walking in silence.

* * *

A little further down, they came across a group of Stalfos. Shreds of skin hung from their rotting bones as they stepped forward with their jagged swords—soldiers who hadn't fulfilled their duty in life, and were left to roam the earth in search of redemption. They dropped their jaws and screamed when they saw Sheik and Impa approaching. They clobbered forward, raising their swords and crying out in a language of the dead. Sheik wasn't worried.

_Now these I'm okay with._

The first reached him. It swung its sword vertically, aiming to slice Sheik clean in half. He took a single step to the side, then brought his leg up in a swift, precise movement that knocked the Stalfos' head to the ground, leaving the rest of its body to crumble. The others were right behind it. They flailed their swords, and Sheik ducked and then brought his palms up to the jaws of the creatures. They met the same fate as their predecessor. Forward they marched, intent on killing this intruder into their living hell. He wondered what they had to gain from killing him. What type of satisfaction it would bring them to spill his blood here. They swung their swords, lost their heads, cried out to gods they had stopped believing in. While Sheik didn't even break a sweat.

_More bones for your collection, Mr. Well._

When they had all fallen, Sheik cracked his knuckles and kept moving forward. He didn't want Impa to say anything to him. Talking to her and hearing her were unnecessary discomforts at that point.

The further they went, the emptier the well seemed to be. They came across more Stalfos, some Keese, even a Poe (never another group of redeads—one or two individually). But as time went on, as Sheik felt the darkness around him grow heavier, the number of monsters dwindled. He became jumpy and restless, waiting for an attack that seemed it would never come. He didn't even know what he was looking for down there, what he would find at the end of this tunnel of haunted souls. Whether going through the trauma was even worth it.

_Nayru knows the nightmares I'm going to have from this place._

_ I'll know it when I see it...yeah right. Do I even believe in this bullshit?_

He almost didn't want to admit that of course he believed in it. It was in his blood to be suspicious, to be spiritual, to believe in the fate of the goddesses. As much as he tried to fight it sometimes.

Finally, after what seemed like an eternity of endless meandering, he found himself in front of a wall. It was different than the other walls. It was made purely of rocks, clumped together to cut off any sort of light or path. He put his hands on his hips and cocked his head, staring at this dead end.

"Great," he mumbled.

"What are you going to do now, Shadow Child?" Impa asked. He knew that they had come to the right place. It was, after all, the only place. But he wondered how many others had come to this place. How many others had managed to fight their way through that horde of the dead. How many had survived the screams of the redeads and the slashes of the Stalfos swords. Not many, he was willing to guess.

"Guess I'm going in," he sighed. The only way left was forward if he wanted to pass this stupid test and get it over with. Sheik took a few steps backward, surveyed the wall. It was tall, it was wide, but it was breakable. Made only of rocks. Something relatively simple. He pulled out another weapon he had made himself—but had been taught to by his father—and tossed it in his hands. It was a grenade, small and simple but ridiculously effective. He bit the top off, threw it at the wall, and leaped backward. He didn't bother warning Impa. She wouldn't need it.

After a quick explosion and a burst of smoke and sparks, a small opening appeared in the rocks. It was just big enough for Sheik to flip through, with Impa right behind him.

For a moment, everything was pitch black. He squinted and took a quick look around, trying to glean anything he could from the scene. He realized that he was in a room. Enclosed with four walls on each side. Big, wide. And he noticed that there were torches on the walls. He lit a Deku stick and walked around the room, lighting each torch in order until everything was lit by the small fires. The walls here were made of bones, as well. The ground, too. He glanced up at the ceiling, and saw only black. No beginning, no end. Just black. Shivers ran up and down his spine.

_What is this room?_

Then, his eye caught something that hadn't been there a moment ago. In the far corner of the room, across from where he and Impa stood.

It was an arm. Shooting up from the ground like a tree. It was a ghostly white color, covered in bloodstains and adorned with a clawed hand at the end. The hand was opening and closing incessantly, as if trying to grab something that kept evading its grasp. Sheik tilted his head and watched it for a few moments. He had never seen anything like that. More shivers.

Then there was another arm, in another corner of the room. The two swayed back and forth, grasping at the air and making Sheik's heart pump. He flicked his wrists for the needles.

Suddenly there were four arms. Sheik clenched his teeth and looked at Impa.

But she was gone.

"Damn it," he hissed. He looked back at the arms. Not really knowing what else to do, he let four of his needles fly, watching as they attacked the four wrists. The arms shrunk back into the ground for a single moment before shooting up again, looking just as scratched and bloodied as before. As much as Sheik didn't want to, a close range attack had to be his next strategy. He turned to the nearest arm. It was almost teasing him with its movements, mocking him with its dance. He approached slowly, one step at a time. Held those needles tightly.

As soon as he was within a foot of the arm, the hand opened up wide. He could anticipate what came next—but that didn't mean it terrified him any less. The hand shot toward him, its open palm reaching for his face. He darted out of the way, somersaulting across the ground and popping up with his back against the nearest wall. He was breathing heavily now, because the arm had turned toward him. Cornered there. And suddenly, it could move. Not just swaying, but really move. As if it were walking. It reached for him again, and Sheik avoided it again, sidestepping and jumping backward onto his hands. Until he was almost in the center of the room.

And then he heard it. Directly beneath his padded feet. A crunching noise, like the chewing of bones. The dirt rumbled under him, and without hesitation, he jumped out of the way. Just before a monster unlike anything he had ever seen burst up from the earth, more arms reaching up from its back toward the sky. Its face resembled that of the redeads—like it could have been human at some point. But with hollow eye sockets, gaunt skin stretched thinly against bones. Its jaw hung open, revealing rows and rows of pointed teeth that were stained red with blood. It was a giant creature, with a hunched back and a ridged spine and no legs. No real body. Only flesh piled upon flesh, connected with the earth somehow, surrounded by skulls. An eerie white color, covered in bloodstains and filled with those who had come and died. Where its arms should have been were only stumps. But on its back were maybe twenty arms, along with the four that shot up from the ground.

Eyes wide, entire body trembling, Sheik faced it and stumbled backward. Not even in his nightmares had he seen anything so terrifying. For he had never heard stories about this monster. Nobody had ever warned him that anything like this would come eat him if he misbehaved. This was too frightening for the elders to tell their children—this was only pure nightmare.

The monster raised its head and stared at him and...smiled. At least, it was the closest thing to a smile this creature could give. Its head tilted, the corners of its open mouth curved up, teeth bared. A sound came from it that made Sheik's ears shake. Not in the same way that the screams of the redeads had. It sounded...like a laugh. A distorted cackle that filled the room, made his heart numb with terror.

And then the arms attacked.

All of them at once, more than Sheik could count, lunged toward him. He didn't have time to be scared anymore, didn't have time to stand frozen like a little child. He had to act. As the arms came toward his face, he dove to the side, let his palms touch the ground. He sprung forward, over and over and over, while the hands fell upon the earth that he had just been standing on. When he was finally back on his feet, the creature had turned to face him, and was still laughing.

_ This is the real test, isn't it?_

He didn't want to know what would happen if those hands managed to grab him. Sheik leaped backward and let his needles fly, toward the head and neck of the creature controlling these arms. But before the needles could make contact, a few arms reached out to absorb those needles. They landed there instead of the creature's head. An instinctive defense mechanism.

_It's protecting its head..._

_ So the head must be the weak spot._

_ But how do I get to it and avoid the arms?!_

The arms came at him again. But this time, Sheik didn't want to jump away. Instead, he lifted his arms and blocked the hands, one after another, with lightning quick jabs of his hands and slips of his head. With each hand that grasped for his face he had a trap, a jab, moving so quickly that his hands were blurs. The arms cringed back at these hits, giving Sheik room to move forward. Keeping his arms crossed in an X shape in front of his face, he drove his way forward, into a small clearing. The hands were there again, lunging at him from every angle. He was sweating, avoiding those clawed fingers by mere centimeters every time. One scraped his cheek, leaving a nasty mark and a trail of blood down his face and onto his cloth. Behind them all, he could see that huge mass with its frustratingly scary face, laughing at him. It was moving closer, inching ever so slightly toward his trapped frame.

_If I don't figure this out, I'm going to die. _

And then, his guard slipped. For less than a second. Something that any normal warrior would never have noticed. But it was enough for these hands. One finally latched onto his head, its claws digging into his forehead, the sides and back. He let out a muffled scream, feeling pain unlike anything he had ever felt before. The hand dragged him, his feet hovering just slightly above the floor, toward the massive creature controlling it. Other hands grabbed his arms, his legs, wrapped around his chest, until he could not move. Was held so tightly that he couldn't even struggle. Could only scream as they dragged him toward its mouth.

_I never thought I'd die like this._

Sheik did the only thing he could do as he felt his death coming closer and closer—as his body neared the gaping maw of the monster. He let his instincts take over, with only the knowledge that this creature's head was its weak point...that maybe, with these hands holding him back, the head would be vulnerable...

It was suddenly right there in front of him, so close that he could smell its rotting flesh. Feel the evil of its body. More evil than Sheik had ever experienced, ever seen, ever felt. Its hot, bloody breath fell upon his face, as he glared into its endless eyes. His vision was beginning to blur from the pain in his head. Endless, infinite pain. But he had to stay conscious, he reminded himself. Otherwise he would surely die.

The creature opened its mouth and bit down on Sheik's neck.

He screamed so loudly he was certain even the dead heard him. He felt his life slipping away from him as those teeth dug themselves into the flesh of his neck.

He had one last resort...one last thing he could to survive.

He still had a single needle in between his fingers. Using the last of his energy, he flicked the needle from his wrist up to his mouth. And with it between his teeth, he drove it straight down into the head of the monster.

It let go of him almost instantly, and every arm shrunk back in agony. It screamed, flailed, bobbed its head around and convulsed. As much pain as Sheik was in, as much of his own blood as he could smell, he had to finish it. He landed on his knees, breathing heavy and energy low. But he stood up, watched for a moment, knowing that the arms were useless now that the weak point had been attacked. He reloaded his needles, aimed them at the creature's head once more, and let them fly.

This time, they hit their mark. The hands grasped at the bleeding head, like one with a headache might do. Its scream made the entire room shake, extinguished three of the four torches. Sheik's legs trembled and he fell to his knees as the creature's arms began to fall. One after the other, shriveling up and sinking to the ground. Its screams grew softer and softer, its movements slower and slower...until, with multiple stab wounds to the head, the creature itself fell to the ground. Nothing but a mass of flesh with hollow eyes staring up at the ceiling.

There, poking up from the ground where the creature had been standing, was a small object. It was purple, and as soon as he saw it, Sheik knew what it was.

_The Truth,_ he thought. On his hands and knees, his vision blurring and his blood pouring, he crawled to where the object was. With the last of his strength, he pulled it up from the ground. He had seen it before in books, heard it described by fellow Sheikah. It was what his people called the Lens of Truth.

_I guess I passed my test, huh?_

And then Sheik crumpled and everything was black.


	35. Place of No Goddess

**weeeee adventuresssssssss **

**i am sleep deprived and loopy but i do like this chapter and i hope you enjoy it too**

**let me know what you think in the reviews plzzzzzzz**

**also thank you all again for reading i love you so much**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Four

Place of No Goddess

Halfway through the morning, the four of them stopped at a small trading post a few miles outside of the mountain range. They bought coats there, beginning to notice the chills across their skin and the visibility of their breaths. Coats made of wolfos fur, gloves, fur-lined boots, scarves and hats. It felt a bit strange to Link, spending his rupees on these things in the middle of summer. But from the satisfied look on the plump seller's face, he figured it was common here. The Snowhead Mountains were freezing year-round, it seemed. Within an hour of leaving the checkpoint, the air had dropped to freezing temperatures, Epona seemed irritated, and Raazi and Ano's teeth were chattering. Covered in their coats, they seemed better. Link draped his over his shoulders and put his gloves on, while Vukan seemed completely unaffected by the cold.

As they continued, Link stared forward and saw the mountains rising up in front of them. The ground turned more and more white with each step they took, the snow sticking more rigidly to the desperate blades of grass. His own teeth threatened to start chattering, too.

"How are we doing?" he called to the others.

"Fine," Ano responded, but even her smile looked cold. He gestured toward her head, and nodded toward the hat she held in her hands. She put the hat on, rubbed her hands together, and breathed out. Behind her, still dizzy and practically incapacitated, Raazi's face was almost completely hidden by the hat, coat, and scarf that she wore. Almost opposite of her usual attire. _Pretty different from your deserts, huh, Raaz?_

With trembling hands, Link pulled out the map that Shad had given them. From the trading post, they were about two hours from the cottage. It was a cottage that was placed at the base of the biggest mountain, on top of which lay a small village of reclusive (Link assumed) people. For only reclusive people, he decided, would find any solace in life on top of a snow-covered mountain. The cottage was a restaurant, an inn, and a shop. There, they were going to meet one of Shad's connections, who would hopefully be of help to them in their quest to find this mythical Triforce shard. A woman, he had specified. And his cheeks had been very red.

Link put the map away, patted Epona's neck, and stared off at the mountains. Wondering what was to come when they reached their destination.

The cottage, just as Shad had described, was nestled in a valley between two mountains. A little further was the base of the largest mountain. If Link stared straight up from the cottage, he could see the tiny dots (the houses?) that sat at the very top of the mountain. He couldn't imagine how one would get up there. A staircase would be nice. Or a giant bird.

"Finally!" Anowaika cried as they neared the cottage. Everything had turned white about an hour ago, and they were all bundled up. Link felt his cheeks and nose turning red, hid as much skin as he could from the chilling breeze that had begun to blow. Epona and Flare had to trudge their way through the building snow, and here, in the heart of the mountains, they could hardly walk at all. Snow was falling from the sky gently, but occasionally, a flurry would blind and paralyze them for a few moments. Without even waiting for Vukan's help, Anowaika leaped off Flare and scurried toward the cottage.

As Link imitated her, grasping Epona's reins and stroking her coat, Vukan lifted Raazi from the saddle. Her eyes were closed and her body still, but Link could tell she was awake. Just very uncomfortable. While Vukan followed Anowaika, still carrying Raazi in his giant arms, Link grabbed Flare's reins as well, and led them toward the cottage. It was a modest wooden building, with black smoke puffing from its chimney and the sounds of excitement and drunkards coming from inside. Just beside it was what looked like a small, perhaps makeshift barn. Link took the horses inside, hoping they would be warm enough, and tied them to the post there. With one last adoring look to his horse, he made his way to the cottage, where the others were waiting. Anowaika hugging herself and urging him to hurry, Vukan silent beside her and carrying a dizzy and chilled Raazi.

Link felt as if he had been transported to a different world when he walked into the cottage. Inside was orange and warm, with two fireplaces on either side with flames roaring within. There were countless tables, filled with men and women who clunked their mugs together and laughed and made jokes, sweating in the wake of the fires and their fur coats.

"Would you look at _that_?" Ano breathed. Vukan grumbled, and put Raazi down. She leaned against him for a few moments, trying to catch her breath and find her balance, before she opened her eyes. "Who would've thought this would be here?"

"I should have stayed at the checkpoint," she grumbled, looking around without much enthusiasm. Link smiled and took off his hat, his gloves (excepting his left hand, of course), his scarf. Hung them on notches in the wall by the door, cracked his knuckles. Anowaika imitated him, but Raazi stayed right where she was. Link stepped up to her, tried to remove her jacket for her, but she shooed him away. With an amused shrug, he led them to the nearest empty table, where they took relieved seats and breathed in their surroundings.

"So, who are looking for?" Anowaika asked. Link leaned back in his chair and put his hands behind his head.

"A woman that Shad knows. He said she'd recognize us if we came here," he replied.

"So we just wait?"

"Mhmm."

Anowaika let out an exasperated sigh and placed her chin in her hands. While they waited, Link called over the nearest server and ordered a quick lunch for them. And, of course, a cup of warm milk and honey for himself. He and Ano devoured their meals, while Vukan nibbled on the rocks he kept in his pouch and Raazi picked at the meal. Her current state, as terrible as it was for her, was guilt-inducingly amusing to Link. Even as they finished their meals, while Anowaika talked incessantly of something Link wouldn't remember, the woman they were waiting for didn't approach them. He sipped patiently on his milk and looked around him. Mostly Hylians—the rough-looking kind, perhaps coming from nearby northern villages and towns. But there were a few Zoras, even more Gorons. He wasn't sure if he could see many Gerudos, maybe a few half-Gerudos at a table in the back. Raazi definitely stood out.

_Wonder what's going to happen now..._

_ The snow will sure make it interesting._

Link was beginning to draw into himself, to think about everything and anything, so he drank desperately. He hated moments like this. He needed to find some kind of distraction, some way to stop thinking about things so seriously. He didn't want to think about his identity, about the true purpose of this journey, about the strange things Zelda had said to him and the strange way she had looked at him and the strange things he had seen in her eyes. Anowaika had stopped talking, but he wished she hadn't.

And then, like a divine gift, he saw someone approaching their table. She walked with more confidence than he had ever seen, a smug smile on her lips and purpose in her brown eyes. She stopped at their table, looked down at them with her hands on her hips. She had sleek black hair, cropped to her chin and getting shorter as it rounded to the back of her head with bangs that lay straight at her eyebrows. Her skin was pale but flushed, like she had seen too many cold days, and the sparkle in her eyes was entrancing. Those same eyes were narrow and slightly slanted, and seemed to hold some sort of wild secret. A secret of the mountains, perhaps. She wore clothes that seemed thin and warm all at once, with a high collar and visible red corset and gloves that reached up to her elbows. Over it all was a black jacket, perhaps made from leather. What Link found most interesting were the giant hoop earrings (rivaling even those of the notorious Raazi) hanging from her pointed Hylian ears.

"Afternoon, mates," she greeted. Her earrings jingled when she moved, and he saw then that she was chewing something.

"Good afternoon," Ano greeted, a little confused but smiling all the same. Link grinned up at the woman and kept drinking his milk. She looked into the eyes of each member, stopping at Link and giving him a devilish smile. Her lips were blood-red, a bright contrast to her pale skin and dark eyes.

"Ya must be the guy Shad told me 'bout," she said. Then she took off her right glove and reached out her hand with a wink. When she leaned forward, he smelled tobacco, and realized that that was what she was chewing. "And yer prettier 'an a picture. Name's Ashei. Pleasure ta meet ya, yeah?"

"Pleasure's all mine," he replied. He took her hand and was surprised by her firm handshake. She definitely was not like any woman he had ever met before. She pulled up a chair from the nearest table—without asking—and turned it backwards, so that when she sat she was straddling it and her arms were resting on its top.

"Interestin' group ya got here, ain't it?" she snickered, looking again at each member.

"We get that," Ano said. "I'm Anowaika. This beautiful Goron right here is Vukan. He doesn't talk much."

"Strong silent type, yeah?" Ashei shook Anowaika's hand and nodded to Vukan.

"Scheherazade," Raazi said softly. She shook Ashei's hand, but was shaking herself. "Call me Raazi."

"A Gerudo, am I right? Probably not used ta the cold." She winked again, chewing on her tobacco. Raazi gave a slight nod, and then continued hugging herself and picking at her soup.

"So, how did you know it was us?" Ano asked. Ashei shrugged and put her chin on her arms.

"Funny lookin' bunch like y'all? Couldn't ah been anyone else, yeah?"

"I suppose that's fair," she chuckled.

"Shad told me what ta look for."

"How do you know him?"

Link could have sworn he saw Ashei's cheeks grow even redder. While she spoke, he looked down noticed two slots in her belt. Each held a sharp weapon—katars. He raised his eyebrows and kept drinking.

"He's good with connections. At least, that's what I heard, yeah?" She called a waiter over and ordered some hard liquor. Strange, in the middle of the day. Even Damita wouldn't have done that, as much a drunkard as she was. "My pa used ta spend loads ah time down in Castilia. Got ta know Telma...ya know her, yeah? She introduced us, me and Shad."

"Oh, you've been to Castilia?" Ano persisted. Ashei shook her head and then, without warning, turned her head and spit the tobacco. It landed across the room, in a bucket that clanged.

"Nah, only when I was a baby. Don't remember it at all. But Shad and I been writin' letters, yeah? Keepin' in touch. Ain't ideal, but it works." She took a swig from her mug. "Try ta keep things here fiery, ya know?"

"Um, I don't get it."

"All right, let me put it this way. What do ya do down in that capital?"

"We're mercenaries," Anowaika responded. Her voice grew instinctively quieter, and everyone at the table leaned closer together. Conversations like this were always dangerous. "We fight against Zelda and her warriors."

"Right," Ashei nodded, "but she's the queen ah all Hyrule, yeah? Her influence stretches ta all four corners. I'm just as much a part ah the Fierce Deities as y'all are—thanks ta Shad, that is. I do my part, but here. I wanna see that bitch crash and burn."

Link really liked this girl. He liked her a lot, and he was glad that Shad had found her and that she was part of the Fierce Deities.

"So, tell me 'bout this quest ah yers."

Link didn't want to be the one to explain it, because he didn't understand it himself. Wasn't entirely sure what he was looking for (other than allies to storm the royal dictatorship). He gripped his left hand in his right and looked to Raazi with subtle desperation in his eyes. In response, she reached her hands out. Link handed her his mug of warm milk and watched her down the whole thing. He called over a waiter to order another one, along with tea for his Gerudo companion.

"We are searching for the Triforce," she said. Ashei squinted, raised an eyebrow.

"The what now?"

Raazi took off her hat and ran her gloved fingers through her hair. The color was beginning to return to her face.

"The Triforce of Courage. A magical relic as ancient as time itself. It carries the essence of the goddess Farore, and imbues its carrier with courage beyond compare."

"Magical relic? Goddesses? Don't get me started!" Ashei started laughing, callousness in her features. "Ya've come ta the wrong place if ya lookin' for spirituality. The goddesses left Snowhead."

"Why do you say that?" Ano asked.

"Hey, Zora gal, ya ever been up that mountain?"

"N-no, I've never even left Castilia."

"Ya'll see what I mean. Takes a certain person ta live up there. Goddesses don't have what it takes," she joked. But Link wasn't sure if it was actually a joke.

"The Triforce is something magical, little bear," Raazi interrupted. She had already had time to give Ashei a nickname. "If it is here, you would know. Strange things happening, perhaps?"

Ashei shrugged, and her almond eyes seemed to smile.

"All right, so y'all are lookin' for this thing, yeah? My question is why. How do ya know it even exists?"

"We don't," Link answered curtly. Ashei pursed her lips at him. "But Zelda wants it."

"That scumbag dictator?" Ashei mumbled, looking around in paranoia. "Why the hell does she want some magic doo-hickey?"

"To make her more powerful, I'm guessing," Link said. "Do you happen to have a toothpick, or a pipe or something?" Ashei reached into her pocket and handed him a couple thin strands of tobacco. He nodded and stuffed them into his mouth. Chewed. "I don't understand it."

"Me neither, but if it means messin' with that bitch's plans, count me in," she said. Link grinned and stuck his fist out.

"My thoughts exactly."

She bumped her fist against his and met his crooked smile with her own.

* * *

Ashei told them that it would take at least the rest of the day to climb up to the village on top of the mountain, and that she would explain her thoughts on the way up. Link tried to go to the stables, but she assured them that it would be wiser to leave the horses here. They would be uncomfortable at the top of the mountain, she said; horses like that weren't used to it. She knew someone who could take care of them in the meantime. Ashei checked their boots and coats to make sure that they were okay for the climb up, sat down and talked them through the procedure—always make sure they were close to a railing, watch their footing, make sure they stop and close their eyes when the wind changed and blew the snow into their faces. Raazi looked as if she were going to be sick through the entire explanation.

"Just be careful," Ashei reiterated. "Y'all are pretty tough, but so's this mountain, yeah? Lucky for us, no blizzard stirrin' up today. Maybe tomorrow; but we'll be up by then. Might hurt yer legs a bit, this un's steep. But I trust ya. My home's all cozy and I make a _mean_ stew. Y'all ready?"

Link felt as if every inch of his skin was completely covered in some type of fur, and his friends were dressed similarly. But Ashei seemed to be wearing a million times less than all of them. Perhaps she was used to this. She offered to carry some of their bags (for the very reason that she was used to this) but they all refused. They walked outside, back into the snow, and saw a stone path leading up behind the cottage. It twisted around the mountain in clumsy stone steps that Link hoped were better built than they appeared. There was a railing on the external side of the mountain, to which Ashei told them to stay close. She led the way, walking a few steps ahead. Vukan offered to let Anowaika ride on his shoulders, but she refused, claiming that this was all part of the adventure. Raazi, on the other hand, jumped on the opportunity.

The five of them, with Ashei in front, Link slightly behind, Raazi on Vukan's shoulders, and Anowaika beside them, began their trek up to Snowhead Village. The place where there were no goddesses. The entire time, Link's fingers instinctively gripped the hilt of his sword, somehow worried that something could jump out at him at any moment. Even though Ashei had assured them that at this time of day, the dangerous animals stayed in their caves.

"How long have you lived up there?" he asked her, speaking loudly over the wind.

"My whole life. Travelled a bit here and there, but I spent most ah my life here, yeah? My flesh and blood is here!" She stretched her arms out and looked around in wonder. "My pa raised me up in those mountains, just us two. _His_ pa was a general in Queen Arielda's army. Top ah the line commander, yeah? But he defected durin' the war, decided he didn' want _any_ part ah that massacre. That's how my pa and I ended up here. He taught me everythin' I know 'bout bein' a real soldier, not like those prissies holed up in their castles and their big-ass armor."

Link grinned, enjoying this distraction from the unpleasant trip up the mountain.

"How about ya, pretty boy? How'd ya end up in the capital?"

"I have no idea."

"...Huh?"

"Don't remember anything before I was fifteen." He never bothered hiding it from people. Ashei turned over her shoulder and stared at him with a cute, furrowed brow.

"Pretty unlucky," she scoffed. "So ya just up and decided the mercenary life was for ya?"

"Seems like I remembered how to use a sword from a past life. And I really don't like Zelda. So I figured it'd work out."

"And look at ya now, big ol' leader man, yeah? Good on ya."

They walked in silence for a few more minutes, before Link spoke again.

"What do you know about the Triforce?" he asked. She shrugged and shoved her hands into her pockets, then spit down the side of the mountain.

"Nothin' 'bout _it_," she said, "but there're some rumors 'bout the sanctuary."

"The what?" Anowaika said.

"Snowhead Sanctuary. Shad shoulda mentioned it ta ya. It's up at the very, very top ah the mountain, yeah? Used ta be a temple for monks, ya know, hermits, but it's been abandoned for centuries. Just a big temple in ruins now."

"That's amazing," Ano gasped. Ashei looked over at her for a few moments.

"Your smile could light up this entire mountain, Zora gal," she winked. Anowaika blushed like a little girl and stared at her snowy feet. Ashei faced forward again and kept walking. And kept talking. "I never seen it myself, but some people in the village say that in the middle ah the night...when it's darkest, yeah?...They see a bright gold light shinin' from the sanctuary."

Link and Anowaika exchanged interested glances.

"When can we go to the sanctuary?" she asked.

"Tomorrow night, after ya get a good night's rest, yeah? We'll go when the night is darkest. Maybe we'll see a nice golden light or two."


	36. Reborn in Hatred

**I've always felt, somewhere deep in my soul, that Link is the epitome of a womanizer.**

**I mean, come on. He's got da booty, das fer sure. And he's probably hella lonely travelling like that all the time.**

**And look at all dem ladies after him. **

**yoo~hoo linkipoooooooooo**

**I don't know maybe it's just me but I love imagining Link as this dude who's just going around like HEYY LADIES (AND/OR MEN IDEK) WASSUP NEED A HERO TO WARM YOU UP FOR THE NIGHT? EH? **

**-shrugs and crawls into a hole to sleep for ten years-**

**enjoy!**

**review plz! would love to hear your thoughts/predictions about the story so far! **

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Five

Reborn in Hatred

Snowhead Village was not at all the desolate, snow-ridden place that Link expected it to be. It was lively and exciting, as small as it was, with inhabitants that smiled when you passed them by. People in Castilia weren't like that, Link knew. They scowled or looked away in the streets. Not the villagers of Snowhead. They seemed to make it a point to make eye contact and smile at each person they saw. All wearing large, beautiful coats unlike anything Link had ever seen, with intricate patterns and tribal designs and impeccable stitching. Hylian men and women (maybe some half-Sheikah), adults and children, young and old, short and tall, wandered the streets. Some had huge, wild-looking dogs walking beside them, their tongues hanging out and their massive tails wagging. They all had similar features to Ashei, with pale skin and dark hair and rosy cheeks and almond-shaped eyes. What was strangest was that there were just as many Gorons living here as Hylians. They, too, wore their jackets and their scarves, their black eyes poking out from the fur. They carried wood from the nearby forest, meat, everything one might look for in a market. They smiled, too, nodding especially toward Vukan.

And absolutely everybody knew Ashei.

"Welcome back, Ashei! Nice trip up the mountain, huh?"

"Ashei, you look beautiful, dear—when are you gonna find a husband?"

"The boys are all heading out tonight for drinks. Join us, won't you, Ashei?"

Even the little children surrounded her as she walked, smiling up at her while she patted their heads.

"Ashei! Ashei! Did you go down the mountain? Did you see any bears? _Or monsters?_ Tell us another story, Ashei! Please, please, please?"

"I'm a little busy right now, ya crazy mice. Maybe tomorrow, yeah?"

"Yeah!"

Link was not used to this. He couldn't even smile back at these people, he felt so out of place. He nodded, met their gazes, but wasn't really sure what else to do. Anowaika was immediately at home, waving and saying hello and bouncing on her heels. There were a few other Zoras there, too, as out of placed as they looked. Link glanced at her and saw how pale she was and realized she would need a body of water soon. Raazi was still comatose on Vukan's back, but Vukan seemed rather indifferent to the entire situation. He blinked in response to the passing Gorons that greeted him, some in his native Goro tongue. And, understandably, there were almost no Gerudos up here. Their blood and skin was not built for this cold. Some people looked at Raazi with gazes of awe. Like they had never even seen a Gerudo before.

"I love this place!" Ano breathed.

"We're all like a family here," Ashei said, leading them through the wide streets. "Everyone knows everyone, yeah? It's a small village, with a big heart."

"Everybody is so nice."

"Ya know, most ah the people here ain't ever left this place. Born here, raised here, got no idea what it's like outside the snow."

"Have you ever left Snowhead, Ashei?"

"When I was younger, my pa used ta take me out to nearby villages in the Hylian Plains. Never more 'an half a day away, yeah? That's 'bout it."

The people here, Link realized, were extraordinarily beautiful. There was something so pure, untouched about them. An innocence and a raw love hung in the air, and it seemed to draw everybody and everything closer together. He saw it in the eyes of the villagers and in the sparkles of the snow. As sore as his legs were and as cold as his nose was, there was something so undeniably warm about Snowhead Village. Maybe the laughter of the children, the excited barks of the dogs, the conversations between the people and the merchants in their markets and the old men and women leaning out of their windows to say hello. As strange as it all was to Link, the more he drank in his surroundings, the more at home he felt.

"My house is a little o'er that way—hey, Zora gal, there're some hot springs down this road. An ol' Zora man owns 'em, and the sweetheart'd probably let ya in for free if ya show him that smile ah yers."

"Oh, that's perfect! Just what I need. Why don't I meet you back at your house?"

"Sure thing. Ask anyone, they'll know where it is, yeah?"

Anowaika left them, bouncing through the snow in the direction Ashei had pointed, and the rest of them continued behind her. After a few minutes and a few turns in the road, they arrived in front of a large wooden house, not dissimilar to the cottage at the base of the mountain. Link was almost in shock when Ashei opened the door without a key, having left it unlocked. He would never be able to do that in Castilia.

_They're real trusting here, aren't they?_

Inside was similar to the cottage, too. There was a fireplace with simmering embers in the main room, and four other rooms that branched out. Two bedrooms, a bathroom, and a kitchen. Around the fireplace were large, furry chairs, and on the other side, a wooden table with chairs. But, after he got past the coziness of it all, he realized how messy it was. Though, if he was being honest, he hadn't expected Ashei to be the tidy type. There were clothes and jackets all over the place, dirty dishes on the tables, a strange smell coming from both the bathroom and the kitchen, and the pictographs on the walls were almost all crooked.

Link took his coat off and hung it with the others on a (apparently unused) coat hanger and aired his skin out while he looked at the pictographs. Almost every single one was of two people: Ashei and an older man with a pleasant expression on his face. He had white hair cut close to his scalp and a soft, inviting smile, and his eyes looked exactly like Ashei's. They always stood in similar positions; she with one arm against his shoulder, her other outstretched with a V-sign, and he with his hands on his hips.

Ashei lit the fire and told them to make themselves at home. Link helped Raazi out of her coat and scarf, and then he and Vukan walked her over to the fireplace. Ashei, an amused expression on her face, lit the embers while Raazi continued to shiver.

"Now ya know why Gerudos tend ta stay away, yeah?" she smirked. She handed Raazi a large quilt blanket, and then went into the kitchen. "Stew'll be ready soon enough."

It was almost nighttime, and Link realized that he was starving. He sat down on the floor beside Raazi, and let her curl up in his arms—searching for any type of heat she could find. Vukan had to sit on the ground, too, because not even her biggest chair could fit him. Only once he had sat down did he notice the giant mass of fur lying next to the fireplace. It lifted its head, and Link saw the biggest dog he had ever laid eyes upon. It had so much thick, black fur (amusingly matching Ashei's hair color) that he could hardly see its eyes. As soon as its gaze met Link's, it stood up, its tail beating against the floor.

"Hey, boy," Link said. He could never help it. Sometimes he felt more comfortable talking to animals than to people. "C'mere, big guy."

The dog walked over, sniffing and huffing and sticking its tail in the air. Its ears flopped down on its head and its entire body heaved with its breaths. Link reached out one of his hands, and the dog sniffed it.

"There's a good boy," he murmured. "There's a good boy."

The dog barked then, and began licking Link's hand and face. While he smiled, he felt Raazi shudder, and he remembered then that she wasn't a huge fan of animals.

"I see ya've met Meemo," Ashei said, walking in from the kitchen. "He's a big baby, he is. Seems he's taken a likin' ta ya, Link."

"Such a good boy," Link replied. More to the dog. "Such a good Meemo!"

"Pretty good with animals, yeah? Good on ya. Stew's ready. Who wants some?"

As tired as he was, Link knew he wasn't going to be able to sleep that night. He'd have the next day to sleep, anyway.

_No use dealing with the nightmares tonight._

Raazi and Vukan slept in the guest bedroom, Anowaika had decided to spend the night at the hot springs, and Link offered to sleep on the chairs in the main room—knowing that he wasn't actually going to be sleeping. Instead, he sat on the floor, leaning against an armchair in the middle of the night, a giant Meemo resting his head in Link's lap while a lantern flickered on the table, tinkering with that mask. The one that Kafei had given him. It resembled the face of a human, with red markings around the eyes and on the cheek and a blue symbol on the forehead. White hair (he hoped was fake) stuck out from the top. The mouth of the mask was set in a straight line, and even without expression in its eyes, it looked so fierce and determined. He knew the face as that of Fierce Deity, after which he and Damita had named the mercenary group. It was a myth of an all-powerful warrior who could fell any monster with a single blow. Why Kafei had given him the mask, he didn't know.

_Is there anything I _do_ know?_

"Can't sleep?"

Ashei wandered in from her bedroom, wearing black leggings and a white, long-sleeved t-shirt. Her hair was messy and her eyes were red, as if from exhaustion. But she was still, he mused, very pretty. Link shook his head and put the mask away. She sat down beside him, shoulder to shoulder, staring at the crackling fire.

"It seems like this is all new ta ya," she continued, stroking Meemo's sleeping head. "Like yer not really sure what yer doin."

"I'm not."

"Let it flow, yeah? Follow the hints ya got, let everythin' fall into its place. Ya've done a good job leadin' so far. It's a little embarrassin' but, truth is, I been dyin' ta meet ya."

"Dying to meet _me_?"

"Ya think we don't know what yer doin'?" she scoffed. She smiled up at him, winked. "I betcha every Fierce Deity out there, everybody ya don't know, looks up ta ya. Ya do amazin' things in the capital, yeah? Ya inspire us."

"Inspire you?"

"Hell yeah! I bet for some ah us, yer the reason we fight."

It was the first time he had ever heard anything like that. He had always led the Fierce Deities, that was true enough. But he had never imagined that his influence would spread so far.

_Inspiring isn't the way I'd describe myself. _

"Why do ya hate the queen, Link? What makes ya fight?" she asked. She leaned her head slightly against his shoulder, and he liked it.

"She's pure evil. Look at how she's polluted everything, everyone. We're all toys for her, not real people."

"Pure evil," she nodded.

"And, this is kind of embarrassing too, but...I want to be remembered." It was the first time he had actually said that out loud.

"Remembered?"

"I want to make history, you know? Even if I can't remember who I am now, I want other people to remember my name centuries to come. I want to do something meaningful, dramatic." Ashei smiled and squeezed his arm. Link didn't want to say anything else because the truth was, he didn't know much about his hatred himself. It seemed as if he had been born with it—or, maybe, _re_born with it, when he had opened his eyes on his fifteenth birthday and remembered nothing except his name, how to use a sword, and Zelda's name.

"I think yer gonna be remembered, no problem."

"Yeah? How would you remember me?"

"Hm. Fearless leader who started a movement ta bring down a tyrant."

He smiled and leaned his head back against the chair. That had a nice ring to it. But, of course, it only mattered if he could live up to it. "What about you? Why do you hate the queen?"

"She took my daddy political prisoner when I was fifteen. That bitch tracked him down and punished him for my grandpa defectin'. One day I came home...and he was gone. Just like that. And my neighbors told me Iron Warriors had raided my home. He got sick and died in prison. I never got ta bury his body or say goodbye."

Link didn't even say I'm sorry, because he knew that wasn't what she wanted to hear. It wasn't what anybody wanted to hear. She didn't want apologies. She wanted her father back. Link took another glance at the pictographs on the walls. He had his own pictograph that he carried with him, something he kept close to his heart. It was a pictograph of him, Raazi, Damita, Shad, Anowaika, and Vukan. They were each making a silly face, pushing and shoving each other, laughing. It reminded him that in some sense, they were a bit normal.

"When I thought there was nothin' I could do, a miracle happened, and I met Shad. He wrote me a letter sayin' he'd love my allegiance, somethin' like that, yeah? I was on board from that moment on."

"So you've known him a while."

"...Yeah."

They were silent then. Each meandering in his or her own thoughts, going over again and again the reason for fighting. Why they had heeded that call to arms, the moment Zelda had put that crown on her head. In an attempt to distract himself from thinking too much about a past he didn't know, Link took out his ponytail, ran his fingers through his hair. Considered retying it, but then decided to just let it sit there on his shoulders. Ashei lifted her head and turned her back to him.

"Hey, pretty boy. Ya know how to give a massage?"

"No."

"My shoulders been killin' me. Think ya can give it a shot?"

"Sure." Link put his hands on her shoulders, moving Meemo's head from his lap, and squeezed. She inhaled deeply as he tried his very best to give some kind of comfort. Damita had given him massages before, but she definitely seemed like she'd known what she was doing. She could always put pressure in just the right places. Link tried to imitate her, squeezing and pushing against the skin and bones of Ashei's slender shoulders. She breathed in and out with his movements, but stayed silent. Then, without really thinking about it, Link slipped his hands beneath her shirt so he could feel her skin while he massaged her. The loose fabric slipped down to the middle of her arms.

Only when Ashei turned her head, and he could feel her breath on his fingers, did he realize how much he missed the warmth of Damita's body already.

Suddenly Link's hands were moving more slowly, closer and closer to the base of Ashei's neck. He was no longer squeezing, pushing, massaging. He was stroking the pale skin of her collarbone with his fingertips. Something—her musky scent, her shimmering black hair, how red her lips had looked when they'd first met—was drawing him closer to her. Maybe it didn't even have anything to do with Ashei. Maybe it was just Link's desire for another person.

He inched closer until his lips were against the back of her neck, and she breathed in so deeply when they made contact that he felt it within his own lungs. As he kissed her neck, he moved his hands down her arms until her shirt was down around her waist. Then he put his hand on her neck and pushed ever so slightly, so her bare back was against his chest and her lips brushing his temple. She put her own, delicate fingers on top of his, waited patiently while his mouth moved up and up and finally met her open lips. She tasted like snow and tobacco. He turned her around, and they were face-to-face, chest-to-chest. He wondered what was going through her head, because absolutely nothing but physical desire was going through his.

Gently, he pushed forward, until she was on her back. And then he was on top of her, hands running through her cropped hair while she slipped her hands beneath his shirt.

Without warning, before Link could even take his shirt off, Ashei was shaking her head with tears in her eyes, saying, "No."

He sat up abruptly and moved away, averting his gaze while she did the same and pulled her shirt back up. Link wasn't sure what to say then.

_Was I not supposed to do that?_

"Sorry," she mumbled. Link shook his head and retied his hair.

"No reason to be sorry." He glanced up and saw her blushing like a tomato in embarrassment.

"I just...I'd feel too guilty, ya know?"

"Guilty? Why?"

Ashei hugged her knees into her chest and rested her chin on top of them, staring blankly at the fire. The tears were gone, as if they'd never been there at all.

"Because I think I'm in love with Shad."

"You think you're _what?"_

"In love with Shad," she repeated.

"So...why did you...?"

"Yer just so handsome and rugged I couldn't resist for a second there," she chuckled, like a little girl. "And it's been a while, yeah?"

"Wait. You're in love with _Shad?_ I thought you said you'd never met him."

"I haven't. Not face ta face, I mean. But I've known him for five years, writin' letters every chance I get. We got ta know each other, yeah? I think I love him. I wanna meet him. Face ta face. I mean, I sent him a pictograph ah me, and he sent me one ah him. I keep it in my pocket. He's so handsome. I wanna really see that face."

Link was so very confused.

_Why the shoulder massage, huh?_

"And I know he's in love with me."

"How?"

"He told me he is."

"Ah."

"Maybe after this is over," she continued, "I can go down ta Castilia and meet him. Or he can come up here." She was speaking as if in a dream, her head tilted and her lips quivering. Lips that had just been kissing his.

"What do you mean, when this is all over?"

Ashei looked at him then with the strangest expression, a combination of sadness and hatred and loneliness and determination.

"When Zelda is dead, and we can all just live in peace. Do what we want, live where we want, _be_ who we want. Yeah?"

_When Zelda is dead._

_ Will that even change anything?_

Link lay his head on Meemo's furry back and stared at the ceiling. Ashei, in similar fashion, put her head on Link's belly. She fell asleep within moments, while he was doomed to roam the endless night with his thoughts.

_Will that even change anything?_


	37. For the Sake of Distraction

**this one's kind of short but i enjoyed writing it**

**not much action either**

**BUT WHATEVER **

**the chappie after this one is kind of exciting**

**i hope**

**kbi imma dummy and am taking summer classes so i actually have to go study BLECH**

**enjoy loveliessss**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Six

For the Sake of Distraction

After a long day in the armory, Damita and Shad decided to take their woes to Telma's inn. A few drinks would do them good, and Telma was always good company to have. It had been two days since the others' departure. Damita and Shad had been, as promised, continuing life as normal in Castilia. She working her armory, and he clumsily helping her (trying not to blow the entire capital up in the process). Ever since they'd left, Damita had avoided her apartment as much as possible. She didn't like how lonely it felt without Link there—and she really didn't like Tingle being there. She did what she had to do when it came to that crazy map-making fairy-obsessed freak: feed him, make sure he showers, give him paper to draw his maps. Her apartment, she knew, would not be a good atmosphere for her if she was going to stay positive throughout this endeavor.

She and Shad walked side by side through the streets of Castilia, making their way to the central plaza where Telma's inn and its warmth, comfort, and good company awaited them. The sun was beginning to set behind the huge buildings, and she wondered if the others were watching the same sunset. Somewhere covered in snow and wrapped in blankets, maybe they were looking at the same thing. Damita liked to think so. Shad was going on about something he'd recently read about. He'd been reading a lot about Snowhead and was babbling on about their way of life, the huge dogs they bred up there, something about an abandoned sanctuary. But Damita's mind was somewhere else.

"Damita, are you even listening to me?" he asked. She looked over at him, a curt smile on her lips.

"I'm trying, babe, I really am."

He understood her and nodded before looking away and falling silent. That made her feel guilty—just what she needed. She linked her arm through Shad's and pulled him closer, flashing him her most enthusiastic smile.

"Keep going. I want to hear it."

"I appreciate your feigned enthusiasm, but—"

"Not feigned! Excuse you, supposed to be a gentleman or something. Tell me about Snowhead. I wanna hear it." He glanced over at her, and she batted her eyelashes. She saw his lips quivering because he was trying not to laugh. She knew he would give in. And eventually, he did, and Damita made it a point to nod and make it seem like she actually was listening. Until they reached the inn, at least. They walked through the din straight to the table in the back that was somehow always empty. As if Telma kept it reserved for them. They sat down and Damita leaned her head back over the chair, letting the atmosphere wash over her.

_How the hell am I going to survive this?_

"Shad! Damita! How we doin'?" Telma walked up to their table, this time empty-handed. It was a rare sight to see, Telma without plates of food and mugs of liquor lining her arms. She plopped down at the table and her loyal white cat, Louise, hopped up onto her lap. Tight black curls fell down in front of her eyes, and the jewels on the corners of her eyes sparkled.

"Hey, Telma," Damita replied. "To what do we owe this pleasure?"

"Givin' mahself a break tahnight. Been workin' like a dog, ah have!"

"I believe it," she laughed. "How's everything going?"

"Aw, swell. Inn's runnin' like a dream. Ma and Pa are doin' all right, too."

"Wonderful to hear, Telma," Shad said. Telma's parents—a headstrong Hylian father and an even more headstrong Gerudo mother—lived in Southern Castilia. The most impoverished area of the capital. Telma had always told the Fierce Deities (whom she supported immensely) that everything she did, she did for her parents. They had suffered enough, she claimed, and she was trying to get them to move in with her in Central Castilia. But they continuously refused, arguing that they had lived in Southern Castilia their entire lives, and didn't want to leave any time soon. It drove Telma crazy, and Damita and Shad had heard all about it in their time getting to know Telma.

"Ah think they're senile, them two. Sometimes they won' listen tah a word ah say, ah swear ta Din almighty." Damita always loved listening to Telma talk. Her voice was like honey. "How's e'erythin' o'er at tha arm'ry?"

"Fine," Damita shrugged, drinking her rum. "It's weird without Link around."

"Figgered ya'd say that, sweet pea. Ya'll get use' ta it, just give it time."

Damita wasn't in the mood to talk about how hard it actually was going to be for her; how without her friends around, there was the threat of slipping back to the terrible state she'd been in four years ago. Of drowning once again in her past, in a time that she wished with all her heart she could forget. Finding Link, Shad, everyone, had been keeping those toxic memories at bay. She was afraid now that they'd come back, and her bad spells might become a bit more permanent.

"Yeah, maybe you're right," she sighed. She drank down the rest of the liquor, and thought her vision wasn't blurred enough, so she took some of Shad's. He was used to that.

"Shad, hun, how's Ashei doin'?" Telma asked. Damita hadn't heard that name before, and when she looked at Shad, he was blushing like she'd never seen him blush before. And he was the type of person to blush relatively frequently.

"Fine, I suppose."

"Who's Ashei, huh?" Damita grinned, and elbowed her scholarly friend. "Your girlfriend? Why haven't I heard about this, Shadsie? She the reason you been _ditching_ me at the armory lately?"

"N-no, o-of c-course not! And I haven't been ditching you at all."

"Really? Then who is she?"

"She's our ally—a Fierce Deity residing in Snowhead Village. Link and the others should have already rendezvoused with her by now."

"Oh. Telma, do you know her, too?"

"Ah introduc'd 'em, sweet pea!" Telma said proudly. "Five years ago, ah did. Her grandpa was a good friend ah mah pa back when he lived here in Castilia. They moved ta Snowhead before Ashei was e'en born. When her pa'd come down ta visit Castilia, years ago, he'd always visit mah Inn ta say hello. Good man—amazin' man, actually. Brought Ashei here when she was just a wee baby. Ah knew after what happened ta her father tha' she'd be a great help ta ya."

"Why, what happened to her father?"

"Ashei's grandfather was a general in Queen Arielda's army, but he defected when she waged the War of the Four Lands. He took his son and ran to take refuge in the Snowhead Mountains, and Priscilda let them be when she took the throne. But when Zelda took the throne...she took Ashei's father political prisoner when Ashei was fifteen, and he got sick and died in prison," Shad said. Damita sighed and drank some more. She'd heard too many stories like that. She could see in Shad's eyes that it gave him pain to relay such a story. After all, his was all too similar.

"She doin' all right up in them mountains?" Telma asked again.

"Yes, she says everything is fine. Thankfully, the Iron Warriors tend to stay away from her village. It's so high up in the mountains, and the climb can be dangerous." Shad fiddled with his notebook, and Telma and Damita threw amused glances at each other. But they decided to drop the subject when someone else joined them.

"Hey, hey!" Kafei said as he approached. Damita pursed her lips when he winked at her, his red eyes glimmering. "Room for one more?"

"Kafei! Haven't seen ya 'round here much, sweet pea," Telma said. She stood up and planted a giant, slobbery kiss on his cheek.

"Nice to see you, too, Telma. I've missed you."

Damita stood up, and they did their handshake. Clap their hands together, intertwine their fingers, touch elbows, spin around, fist bump. She tousled his hair and they sat down again. Damita loved Kafei. He was the second person she'd met when she'd moved to Castilia six years ago, right after Telma. He had nice stories to tell. And he was loyal, even if it meant sneaking behind someone's back. He would never betray anyone...but that didn't mean he wasn't willing to keep secrets. He kept a lot of them.

And, of course, she _loved_ his masks. Not many things could make her smile as much as those could.

"You finally showed up," she said. "Decided we were worth your precious time?"

"Eh, what can I say? Ikana gets boring."

"I highly doubt that." He scoffed and leaned back in his chair, swaying back and forth. His hair had definitely grown longer since the last time she'd seen him. And his clothes had become simpler. Traveling humbled him, perhaps.

"Hello...Shad, is it?"

"Yes. Nice to see you again, Kafei."

"Honored you remember a humble mask salesman's name," he smirked. Shad smiled very, very uncomfortably and fixed his glasses, the way he did when he was feeling awkward. Which was, Damita observed, most of the time. But she let the tension between them slide, deciding it wasn't something she was in the mood to deal with.

"Sell any masks lately?" she inquired. Kafei shrugged, then started petting Louise. She started purring at the familiar stroke of his nimble fingers.

"Nah, not too many. Seems like people aren't interested in buying masks when they have all this other shit to worry about, you know?" By 'other shit,' she knew he was talking about the queen and her Iron Warriors.

"I guess. I'd buy them, though. They're cute."

"Then buy them."

"Do you know how many goddamn masks I have, Kafei? I've spent a year's salary on your masks already!" They both laughed. "I don't even wear them."

"Give a few of them to your uptight friend over here. Maybe it'll help get that stick out of his ass." Kafei gestured toward Shad, who furrowed his brow and gripped his notebook more tightly.

"I have no such thing up my...arse."

"Aw, go easy on him, Kafei," Damita said, squeezing Shad's arm and putting her head on his shoulder. "He's a sweetie, I promise."

"Whatever. Hey, I have a question, Damita."

"Ask away."

"What happened with your friend? Link? You know, after I gave him that chart."

Damita took a deep breath and turned away, suddenly wanting more alcohol.

"He left."

"Okay, well...did that cute Gerudo girl go with him?"

"Raazi?" Damita raised an eyebrow at Kafei's suddenly boyish face and anxious smile. "Yeah, she went with him."

"Damn it. All Gerudos are pretty nice looking, but she was _gorgeous._"

"You'd have no chance anyway."

"Shut up."

"Speaking of which, when are you going to explain to me what happened back there?" she asked. She had been wondering ever since he'd given Link that chart what exactly it meant. How he had even come to own such a chart, how he'd known to give it to Link.

"Eh, some other time when I feel like it," he sighed. "I'm tired now. Any more rum in that mug, hot stuff?"

"Are you actually asking me that?"

"What was I thinking. Hey, Mr. Fancy-Pants, what you got there?"

"Red wine. Sturgeon always spoke of red wine as the drink of the gods, brought down as a gift to the mortals of Hyrule."

"Gross. Hey, Telma, got any more rum?"

"Be back in a jiffy, sweet pea. Don't go nowhere." Telma stood up and walked to the bar, and Louise nimbly followed at her heels. Kafei stretched out his arms and then put his elbows on the table, leaning forward. Damita imitated him, so that they were so close their noses were almost touching.

"I've missed you, hot stuff," he winked.

"Yeah? I don't believe you." She saw Shad scribbling madly in his notebook, saw Telma mixing drinks, saw Kafei's laid back features in front of her. It all calmed her nerves a little bit.

"Oh! I almost forgot. I have something for you," he said, sitting up abruptly. He took a scrunched up piece of paper out of his infinite pocket, straightened it out and handed it to her. It was a flyer, with a pictograph of a giant man holding up his fist and baring his teeth. The flyer read, in Hylian, Zoran, Goro, and Gerudic, "The fight is on."

"What is it?" she asked.

"A flyer for an illegal, underground fighting arena. "

"How'd you get your hands on this?" she gasped, the smile growing on her face.

_This is exactly what I need. _

"Damita. I literally work in the black market. You think I don't know every little thing that goes on behind those Iron Warriors' backs? Hell, I bet even Shad didn't know about this," he said. "A friend of mine owns the arena that hosts it. It used to be a sumo arena or something."

"Unfortunately, Kafei is right. I had no idea this existed," Shad nodded, peering over Damita's shoulder. She could feel her own eyes beaming, her blood running faster. She gripped the flyer tightly.

"When? When does it happen?"

"Every Friday at ten o'clock. Word is, almost everyone with any affiliation with Ikana shows up. The thieves, the merchants, all the members of all the crime syndicates. Some crazy shit."

"So you've been?"

"Guilty as charged. Went yesterday for the first time."

"What's it like?" she asked. Like a little girl about to receive the most amazing present. Kafei smiled and began fiddling with his Keaton mask, which Damita could've sworn wasn't there five seconds ago.

"The biggest, baddest gangsters and thugs of Castilia—hell, from all over—come and beat the shit out of each other. What do you _think_ it's like?"

"I think it's exactly my cup tea," she grinned.

"Come with me next Friday. It'll be a party and a half."

"Are you asking me out on a date, sir?" she asked with feigned drama.

"Call it whatever you want, hot stuff. But I think it'd be fun. And I need someone to make sure I don't get beat up myself down there. Muscular, I am not."

"In my opinion, a rather frightening spectacle in rather frightening company, my darling," Shad stuttered. Damita crumpled up the paper and looked Shad right in the eyes.

"Oh, no worries. I'm not gonna watch anything," she said.

"You're not?" Kafei cried. "But I thought you just said—"

"Nope. Not watching."

Kafei and Shad both looked at her, Kafei disappointed and Shad relieved.

"I'm gonna fight."

"WHAT?!"

_The perfect distraction._


	38. Snowy Shard

**uuughh i'm getting impatient i wish i could just post it all right now but i don't think that would be a good idea**

**also i haven't even gotten close to finishing the second part**

**sooooooooooo**

**here's chappie 37! WOW SOMETHING HAPPENS**

**enjoy!**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Seven

Snowy Shard

Link slept for almost the entirety of the next day in Ashei's cottage, curled up next to her dog. Raazi opted to stay in, as well. She was not about to go out into the cold if it wasn't absolutely necessary. Anowaika, of course, begged Ashei to take her around the village. She had a pictograph box with her and liked to take pictographs of everything. Her house, Link recalled, was filled to the brim with those pictographs. Of them, of her family, and an overwhelming amount of Vukan. Who had joined Anowaika and Ashei in their adventures, staying close to his Zora counterpart at all times.

Link had expected it, but his sleep was not dreamless. He dreamt again of the girl with the red ribbons, whose face he could not see. But this time, his dream was a bit different. There was a golden light growing more brightly than anything he had ever seen, right behind the girl's silhouette. It nearly blinded him, so that he could see nothing but her. When he opened his eyes from that dream, his left hand was hurting. And Raazi was staring at him with that mysterious glint in her eyes.

"Dreaming?" she asked. Link nodded and sat up, gripping his left wrist. "Good, or bad?"

"I don't know. They seem good. But they feel bad." Raazi sat on the armchair behind him, tucking her legs beneath her, and began playing with his hair. Braiding it, twisting it, tying and untying it.

"You know what we say in my home?" she asked. She said something in Gerudic then, that sounded beautiful and natural on her tongue. "It means, 'Dreams are the past in blurred images and the future in twisted images.'"

Link didn't know which one this dream was, since he had no semblance of a past.

"Do not think difficult about them. Either they have happened already and do not matter, or they will happen and cannot be avoided. Yes?"

"Sure. And it's, don't think _hard_ about them, not difficult."

"Ah, thank you. Relax your mind, little wolf," she whispered, putting her chin atop his head. "You are strong. You know your path. Now you must follow it."

"Hey, Raaz. Let me ask you something."

"Yes?"

"How do you know all of this...?"

"All of what, little wolf?"

"When you saw my hand, it seemed like you already knew. About the Triforce." He took off his glove to look at the scar there. Raazi reached forward and grabbed his hand.

"I have known about the existence of the Triforce since I was a little girl. It is strange that its tale has been lost to Hylians, Zoras, and Gorons. But for Gerudos, it has not. We tell the tale always, pray to the goddesses knowing what they have given to our world. The Triforce is something we worship."

"Well Gerudos are much more spiritual than everyone else," he said. She chuckled wordlessly.

"I had a feeling when I first met you. There was a look in your eyes. I could see an essence of divinity inside you."

Link didn't believe her because, as it were, he didn't believe in divinity. Especially inside of him. Something that ruled the world, with a supposed kind and gentle hand, shouldn't have let all the terrible things happen.

_Shouldn't the goddesses have pulled their own weight?_

* * *

Ashei took them out to dinner that night in a local tavern. It wasn't as warm and comforting and familiar as Telma's place, but it was nice. Raazi had opted to stay in again, so it was only the four of them. But, as they ate, it seemed like everyone in the entire village was eating a communal meal together. The tables were all merged together, the food passed around and taken from huge bowls, conversations flung across that room through spirited yells, giant dogs barked and ran around in circles. Link leaned back in his chair, chewed on some tobacco Ashei had given him, and drank his steaming milk and honey. He answered the questions posed to him with silky smooth nonchalance, a perpetually crooked smile on his lips. Anowaika was like a firecracker, telling jokes and stories and standing up to make sure everybody could hear her when she had an especially funny tale to tell. Vukan sat among a group of Gorons who could, it seemed, speak Goro. Although, as always, Vukan said nothing. The others seemed to understand that. But it was nice, Link observed, seeing Vukan suddenly with his own race. A rare sight to see, perhaps.

They brought back a meal for Raazi and sat around Ashei's fireplace, listening to Anowaika talk some more, a million miles per hour.

"Wow, the people here are so amazing! I have so many beautiful pictographs now, I hope I don't ever forget their names. I have to come back some day and visit them all again. And man, did I tell you about those hot springs? Nothing better, I'm telling you! Wish we had springs like that in Castilia. It would make the long days of work so much easier. Although, I doubt I'll ever be able to work normally again after this..."

Link closed his eyes and put his hands behind his head, tuning into his breathing cycle. Listening to the voices of the others and trying to reconcile this feeling he had had since arriving in Snowhead Village. Like there were arms clawing at him, pulling him somewhere higher and heavier that he didn't really want to go. But at the same time, the feeling attracted him, with some sense of security he couldn't recognize.

_What the hell is going on in my head?_

The others slept until midnight. When he saw the hands on his watch meet, he woke them up. In a silent, sleepy stupor, they began to prepare. Equipping their weapons, putting on any armor they had, covering it up with fur, fur, and more fur. In the middle of the night, at the top of a snow-covered mountain, it was bound to be ridiculously cold. Ashei was wearing almost as much armor as Iron Warriors—but it looked much more splendid on her, of course. She gave Meemo a quick kiss goodbye, ran her fingers along a pictograph of her father, and then led them out of her home into the midnight chill.

Link hadn't thought the mountain could even go any higher, but he was wrong. Ashei led them through the deserted streets, winding up a hill leading from the far side of the village. There was a steep staircase, much steeper than the first, that led straight up rather than twisting up the mountain. Even Ashei warned them about the danger of this pass. Once he heard that, Vukan picked up Anowaika against her objections, and carried both her and Raazi up the mountain while Link and Ashei trudged on in front. His legs were hurting and breathing got harder as they climbed, but they all kept going. He assumed Ashei had done this before, but not more than once or twice. Her cheeks were flushed and she was panting just like the rest of them. Every few moments, Link would glance behind his shoulder and watch the rocks around him fall. The village was getting smaller and smaller, and he couldn't help but exhale in response to how steep that plunge would be. How painful. He tightened his grip on his sword.

"Don't look down, yeah?" Ashei called over the howling wind. "Don't want ya ta get scared!"

"I'm not scared," he said with a grin. Then they kept going, a pit in their stomachs. If Link stared straight up, he could see so clearly the stars and the moon in the sky, and the silhouette of a large, pillared building with an ominous air around it. It was calling out to him, and his hand was hurting more and more with each step.

Finally they arrived at the entrance to Snowhead Sanctuary. It was a gigantic building, but lay practically in ruins, with fallen pillars and crumbling stone walls. When they arrived, leaning on their knees and trying to catch their breath, Link stepped up to stand beneath the ancient archway above. It was a wonder this hadn't crumbled as well. He ran his gloved hand along the pillar of the archway, feeling every ridge. From the outside, the sanctuary looked like time itself, carrying in its walls history and suffering. It looked eerie, haunting, overwhelming and foreboding as it rose up tall and dramatic. The archway led into the sanctuary, but it was so dark in there that he couldn't see anything that might have been inside from where he stood in the entrance. He didn't even hear any semblance of life anywhere around him. Ashei stepped beside him, hands on her hips, staring into the abyss into which they were about to step.

"What did you say was the history of this place?" he asked.

"Used ta be a sanctuary for monks. Hermits who wanted ta devote their lives ta prayin' to the goddesses up there. Claimed it was so high and cold and away from ev'ryone else it made 'em feel closer ta the heavens, yeah? Who knows how long ago? Maybe centuries. Even their rituals and prayers are lost ta us now."

"Snowhead Sanctuary," Anowaika breathed. "It seems like there's a lot of history in this place."

"Ya bet there is." She took out a lantern that she had had strapped to her waist, lit a match using the rough stones, and suddenly there was light. The five of them, Ashei at the head, walked slowly under the archway, past the snowy pillars, into the ruins of the ancient monk temple.

Inside, it looked more like a very large home than a temple. The room was so vast that, in the small light they had, Link could hardly see one wall to another. In the corner was a staircase leading up to a second floor, surrounding the ground room in a railed balcony. Directly in the center of the room was a completely shattered crystal chandelier, overrun with insects and decay. Weapons that had once lined the walls lay in heaps on the floor, a ruined fireplace huddled in one of the walls, and a thin breeze whistled through. Chills, not from the cold, covered Link's skin beneath all the fur.

"Dear Nayru, what _is_ this place?" Anowaika said, spinning in circles as she took it all in. Ashei outstretched her arms.

"Welcome to Snowhead Sanctuary, mates."

"What's that over there?" Ano walked to the very back of the room, where something resembling a shrine stood. A stone statue (that might have once been recognizable) sat in its center.

"An altar the monks used ta perform their prayers at. Can't tell what the statue is, though. Guessin' it's one of them goddesses, yeah?"

"This is where golden light comes from, little bear?" Raazi said through chattering teeth. "You are certain?"

"Sure am. It ain't the darkest time ah night yet, so we can't see it."

Link could hardly hear them. He was lost in this treasure chest of the past, walking around the room, letting his hands rest on the walls as guides. He could hear the conversations the monks once had here, the rituals they performed to goddesses who let them rot. He could see them prostrating before that altar, offering their entire lives and sacrificing for a single stone statue. It made him sick...and yet, it made him consider something strange within the human soul. A devotion to divinity he could only compare to a devotion he felt to his cause, to his friends, to a better Hyrule under a better rule. A devotion to building a name that would be remembered. All of these emotions were contained in these walls, in the whistling breeze, in the demons that hid in these shadows.

"Hey, Link. Come look at this, will you?" Ano called. Drawn from his stupor, Link walked over to where she knelt at the altar, brushing dust and debris from the artifacts there that had nobody had bothered to study. From the cold or the indifference, he wasn't sure. There, among all those artifacts, was what looked like another statue. But it was somehow still in pristine condition. It looked like it was in the shape of a goat, though its face was that of a human. Link tinkered with it for a few moments. "What do you think it is?"

"Maybe something else they worshipped?"

"Who knows? I'm not even sure these monks worshipped the same goddesses we worship now, yeah?" Ashei said, peeking over Link's shoulder.

"You think they had a different religion?"

She shrugged again, her lips slightly pouted. "Like I said, who knows?" Link put the idol down and stood up at the altar. It looked like a podium, and had some kind of religious or spiritual text etched into its stone face. He took off his gloves and put his hands on either side of it, squinting. Hoping that with his newfound knowledge of Ancient Hylian, he would be able to read it. But it wasn't in Ancient Hylian. It was in a language he had never seen before. Behind him, Anowaika lifted her pictograph box and snapped it.

"Shad would want to see this," she whispered. "He would want to see all this."

"Pretty boy, what time is it?"

"Two o'clock."

"The night should be pretty dark now..."

As the words were lifting from her lips, the letters of the altar began to glow golden. And all around them, encasing them, was a soft humming. As if twenty different voices were letting their throats reverberate as they stood in a circle surrounding the five of them. It was the only thing Link could hear. The altar began to shake, but Link refused to move his hands. And then he realized that even if he tried, he wouldn't have been able to. Something was forcing his left hand onto that altar, while the golden glow grew brighter and brighter until he was blinded. Blinded by the light, deafened by that ancient humming. His left hand was in so much pain in the midst of that gold that he tried to open his mouth and scream, but either couldn't do it or couldn't hear it.

Then, in the middle of it all, he saw something else appear there on the altar. It was in the shape of a single triangle, lifting up into the air in front of his eyes. It seemed to be speaking to him in a language he couldn't understand. He lifted his right hand to shield his eyes. And suddenly, he could understand the language. The voices that had been humming spoke to him—he didn't know if anybody else could hear it.

"Shattered shards are your birthright; courage makes them one..."

He was thrown back by a strong, invisible force, and silence overcame everything. When he opened his eyes, he saw four heads staring down at him, wide-eyed and concerned. He felt as if there were no air in his lungs, and as if a hot iron had just been pressed to the back of his hand.

"Link, are you okay?!" Ano cried. He just stared straight past her, at the ceiling.

"We should give little wolf some space," Raazi said softly. She, Ano, and Ashei sat back, while Vukan used his hand to help Link sit up and support him.

"Are...are you guys all right?" he asked, putting his hand to his head. Ano and Ashei looked at each other.

"Why are you asking _us_? You're the one who took a beating!" Ano said. "Do you...do you not remember what happened?"

"I mean, I do—"

"You disappeared in gold light for one moment, then you were thrown back," Raazi interrupted. Link stared at her.

"You didn't hear the humming?"

"The what?"

"You didn't hear those voices? Didn't see that triangle?"

"N...no."

Link looked at his hand. The triangle scar was glowing just slightly. It was barely noticeable, a soft green and gold shimmer. He hated seeing it, so he put his glove back on and hid it from view. While Ano and Ashei whispered to each other, Raazi put her hands on Link's shoulders, looked him right in the eyes and said, "I do hope you believe now, because what just happened is proof enough, no? You have reclaimed the first shard of the Triforce of Courage."

_I don't know what the hell to believe._


	39. Wine for the Ages

**so yeah i'm gonna post two chapters again they're both hella short not really sure why it turned that way**

**(they're kind of cop-out/filler chapters OOPS #sorrynotsorry)**

**enjoy this chapter from the perspective of my favorite hero-turned-villain**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Eight

Wine for the Ages

Zelda sat cross-legged in her bed, a giant book open in her lap titled _Hyrulean Folklore of the Ages._ It was ancient, and had been covered in a film of dust when the servant had brought it to her. It smelled of old hands and breaths falling upon the pages. Not that reading it would have made much of a difference. She already had the Triforce of Wisdom and knew almost everything there was to know about the Triforce; but she wanted to make sure that she didn't miss anything. There had to be something here to help her locate it herself. She trusted that Sheik and Impa would do as Zelda commanded...but even then, say that the Triforce eluded them? Say that Link and his comrades fell upon it before them? She would need to do something in that case. Something drastic and quick. She wanted to figure out a way to get the Triforce from him should he get it. The problem was that every time she closed her eyes and saw his face, her heart twisted a little bit, and she needed to remind herself of the task at hand. Of what happened seven years ago, and of her unforgiving nature.

_I am one to hold a grudge._

She flipped through the pages, sitting with her back straight and her hair falling to one side. She drank in each word, imprinting them in her head. Most of the knowledge she already knew, but there were little tidbits here and there that she hadn't learned of before. Like that the Hero of Twilight had been known first and foremost for his handsome looks. That the Hero of Time had been known as a child to cause mischief and was, at times, nothing more than a thief. That the hero of old had been rumored to love the princess of old. She scoffed and stared at the image drawn there with skepticism. It was of two young children—a boy in green and a princess in pink—holding hands. After that, Zelda closed the book and threw it to the ground, then called to the servant outside her door to bring her a glass of wine. She wanted to avoid getting lost in her memories again, because for her, the past was the past. Unnecessary distractions...

* * *

_I remember first meeting him. I was fourteen years old, still did not have the Triforce of Wisdom, and wanted to know everything there was to know. But my mother used to tell me that I didn't have time for reading outside my daily tutoring sessions. Told me that my duties were as a princess, not a scholar. That one day my duties would be that of queen. Every time she saw me reading, she would snatch the book away and wag her little finger at me, and I would feel indifferent. Her scolding meant nothing to me. There was nothing that could have deterred me at that point—a character trait still rather prevalent inside me. To avoid getting caught and having my books taken away from me, I would take books from the library and run out to the garden. There was a little patch of land there that I could see from my window and that the gardeners, for some reason or another, never touched. They let the weeds and flowers grow there like an oasis. I would sit in that little hidden alcove with my books and my journals and, while I could hear servants and my mother running, trying to look for me, I would smile and continue reading. Though my thirst for knowledge has long since been quenched. I outgrew my childhood quickly._

_ One day, in my little forest, a boy stumbled through the thickets and fell face first in front of me. I furrowed my brow as he spit out the grass he had involuntarily eaten, but kept his head down and his hands covering it. _

_ "Hello," I said. It seemed only then that he realized I was there. He looked up at me and I knew then that I was in love. Or at least, I thought I was. Love—and love at first sight, no less—was something I believed in back then. Something of which I had been dreaming. When I saw his blue eyes and blonde, unkempt hair...the frazzled and mischievous expression on his face...I truly believed that I had found it. _

_ "Oh, s-sorry," he stuttered, sitting up and dusting himself off. "I didn't know anybody else was here." _

_ "What's your name?" _

_ "Link," he said with a smile. "My name is Link. Yours?" _

_ "You don't know my name?" _

_ "Nope. Sorry?" _

_ "Zelda." _

_ His eyes widened then and he stood up. He bowed clumsily, over and over again, until I was laughing so hard my sides hurt. _

_ "Princess! I'm s-so sorry, please forgive me—"_

_ "Please stop that. It's silly." _

_ "Y-yes, Your Highness." _

_ "Don't call me that. Sit down, Link. Why do you look so frightened?" _

_ He told me that he had snuck into the castle when he was supposed to be training, and had stolen fruits from the kitchen. Currently, he was running from the kitchen staff, and had stumbled upon my little haven. He told the story in such a way that made it sound like a daring adventure, with his hands clenched and his eyes sparkling as he thrust his fist to the sky. I could tell he was dramatizing the story, for whose sake I was not certain. I still am not certain for whom he told his stories. For him, or for me. It does not matter now. _

_ I did love him once. When we were both fourteen years old. But now we are twenty-two years old and I have never felt more hatred in my life._

* * *

Zelda swiftly drank the rest of the wine and slammed her goblet down on her nightstand. She had thought of the past again, as much as she tried not to. Her chest was pounding, and in a rage, she let a burst of electricity fly from her fingertips to a tapestry on the wall. It burned and fell to the ground. Then, without warning, her right hand fell into a fury of excruciating pain. She bit her lower lip to avoid screaming—because she hated the sound of her own scream—but it ultimately proved futile. The pain became too much, more than she had ever felt physically. She screamed, and cringed, and gripped her hand so tightly that her nails dug into her own skin. The Triforce on the back of her hand was glowing.

"Your Highness!" The door to her bedroom flung open and Karis stumbled in, his hand on the wall to support himself. "Is everything okay? I heard a scream and—"

"_Get out!"_ she hissed at him. He stared back at her, with a look of wide-eyed concern. He was sweating bullets. "Who gave you permission to come in here, Karis? Leave!"

"I just wanted to make sure everything was all right—"

"_I said leave!"_

Karis flinched, and then finally, turned and walked out. Zelda looked at her hand again and, in realization, screamed again. This time, in fury.

_He's found part of it,_ she thought. She was panting now, her entire body heaving with her angry breaths. _That bastard has part of the Triforce._

_ I'm running out of time. _


	40. Correspondence--Snowhead to Ordon

**WHOA PART FOUR**

**THIS IS THE LAST PART**

**AND THE ONE WITH THE MOST ACTION**

**WAOW**

* * *

_PART FOUR_

_THE MONKEY SHARD_

* * *

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Correspondence—Snowhead to Ordon

_Dear Damita,_

_ How's everything going? I know it's only been a couple days, but I wanted to write you. We also have an update for Shad, so you should show him this letter, too. We're at Ashei's place—I don't know if Shad told you about Ashei. She's great. I think you two would be really good friends. And Snowhead Village is an incredible little place. If you ever get the chance, you should come see it. Aboda gets pretty cold sometimes, right? So you'd be used to it at least a little bit. Anyway, everybody is safe is so far. Anowaika's made loads of friends, and as you can guess, Raazi hates the cold. She's pretty much been comatose this whole trip. Gerudos aren't very good with the cold. Vukan's good, as always. Hasn't said a word. I'm not worried about him. I'm a little worried about Ano, though. She's a little bit naïve about everything, so I'm glad Vukan is here to really keep an eye on her. If anyone knows about how shitty this world is, it's him._

_ I guess I'm worried about Raazi, too. Hylians just don't treat Gerudos very well, you know how it is. The sooner we can finish up in the Hylian Cities, the better. She'd probably have a better time in the Zora Isles or the Goron Mountains. And, to be honest, I'm sick of this place. I want to get out and see something. It's starting to feel more like an adventure now that I've climbed a mountain, you know? Ashei took us to this old monk sanctuary at the top of the mountain. Said that people had heard rumors about a golden light there. We went up and, what do you know? There was the golden light. And as much as I hate to say it, I think I saw part of the Triforce. I think we got the first part. The scar on my hand is glowing a little bit. Don't know what it means, though. Don't really want to know. Can you let Shad know that we're ready to head south? We need the rest of the information from him as soon as possible. I want to get this done and watch Zelda be destroyed. _

_ Let's hope no one finds this letter. _

_ How are things in Castilia? Tell Telma I said hi, and say thank you to Kafei for me. I miss everybody already. Try not to get into too much trouble while I'm gone. Please? I'm counting on you being there when I get back. Just be careful, Damita. I mean it._

_ I miss you more than I can say. _

_ Link_

_P.S: Anowaika took a few pictographs that Shad might want to look at. Tell me what he thinks._

* * *

_Dear Link,_

_ Nice to hear from you, even though it hasn't been too long. You know any type of distraction is useful. Things are okay over here. Everything's pretty normal, actually. Shad's been spending more time with me at the armory since you guys aren't here to fill his schedule. Hopefully Castilia will still be standing when you come back! Which won't be too long, right? Kafei's been spending more time at the inn, so it's nice to be seeing people instead of just sitting on my ass in the armory or getting drunk every night. I'm not getting into trouble, don't worry. And I'm even learning how to cook. You'd be proud. Although I can't say I enjoy having Tingle around. He's weird. Always talking to himself and drawing maps of imaginary places. And boy does he smell. Even more than you._

_ Shad is in quite a state now that he figured out his theory was right. The whole thing about the Triforce, I mean. He's been jumping off the walls, really. He screamed when I showed him the letter and the pictographs. He's still trying to figure out what language is written there, but I bet he'll figure it out soon. He always does. Anyway, I'm sending along the next route you're to follow. The next shard thing is in the way south, in Faron Woods. The closest village, right outside the woods, is Ordon. Hey, isn't that the place you're telling people you're from? Better be careful! Anyway, Shad knows an owner of a pub down there. Lon Lon Pub. Funny name, huh? Just get to Ordon, try to keep a low profile, ask to meet with Talon. Apparently he's a pretty nice guy and will definitely meet with you, even if he doesn't know you. But he should be expecting you. _

_ Be careful in those woods. I hear a lot of bad rumors about them. You know, the usual. Anyone who goes in never comes out. Don't die on me. And tell everyone I said that. I miss you all like crazy, so move your butt. _

_ Miss you more, babe. _

_ xoxo Damita_

_P.S: I wasn't going to mention this because I figured you'd freak out, but there's really not anything you can do about it, so I'll tell you. I've decided to take up boxing in an arena in Ikana. Let's hope my pretty face isn't too beat up by the time you get back._

* * *

_Dear Damita,_

_ Underground boxing? Really? That's your idea of staying out of trouble? I swear, you're the crazy one, not me. Knowing how stubborn you are, you may just skip this entire letter, but try to resist the temptations. Do you know the kind of people who end up in that arena? Guys huger than Vukan. Just stick to the cooking, will you?_

_ And anyway, I thought you said you were done with the fighting. _

_ You can tell Shad that we've received the map and are on our way down to Ordon. We're about a day and a half away. You wouldn't believe how many checkpoints we've had to pass through, even as far from the river as we are (which is hard sometimes, because Anowaika can get dehydrated real easily). I guess it's to be expected, since we're riding from the very north to the very south of the Hylian Cities. Sometimes, it takes all my strength not to sock these Iron blockheads. They're brutal. They beat people up like there's no tomorrow, even worse than in Castilia. People are afraid to even open their mouths. And I can't count on my hands how many times Raazi's bags have been raided. I'm writing this letter from a checkpoint right now. They actually took Raazi to a separate room for questioning this time. She's okay now, but it makes my blood boil, you know? At least nobody's really questioned my papers. _

_ Epona is doing really well. But, as always, she only responds to me. She'll even bite at Ano. In retrospect, we could have just taken one horse. But I couldn't leave without Epona. She's my baby. And she's been doing so well so far. I trust her with my life. And she's a great listener—even better than you. _

_ I've heard that Lon Lon Pub has the world's best milk. I'm really looking forward to trying it. _

_ Everybody sends their love to you and Shad. And try to be nice to Tingle. I bet the guy's had a hard time. _

_ Link_

_P.S: Haven't had to use any of your fancy weapons yet. Don't know whether to feel relieved or angry. Wish us luck._

* * *

_Dear Link,_

_ Yeah, yeah, I figured you'd try to talk me out of the boxing thing. And I know I said I wasn't going to fight anymore, but this is different. I'm not picking up any weapons or going out to murder anyone. I'm just picking up my fists to punch some fat guys in the face. It's what I need, okay? The armory can only do so much for me at this stage in my life. Sometimes I have these moments where all I can think about is my life before Castilia, when I was living in Aboda. Having to relive those memories makes me sick. You know, sometimes I wish I were like you. Didn't know anything about my past. Then maybe these scars on my back wouldn't burn so much. Anyway, the point is, I need something like this to motivate me. _

_ And do you know how much money the winner gets?_

_ A shit-ton, I'll tell you that much. _

_ I figured you'd be having trouble with the checkpoints, but it's good to hear your papers are going through all right. I know Shad was pretty nervous about that. Mr. Ravio, or whatever. I don't think you look like a Ravio. He told me to let you know that you should just tell the Iron Warriors that you're coming back home from a trip to visit family in Castilia; I don't know what you're gonna do when you're actually there, since nobody's going to know you. Ordon isn't too small, but it's definitely not big. Doesn't really qualify as a city. It's more of a town. So be careful, okay?_

_ Those Iron Warriors are pretty immune to any sort of punishment, because Zelda doesn't give a shit about her people. Including them. She lets those babies run around and do whatever they want to whoever they want. Almost all of them are related to veterans of the six-year war, so they feel some kind of weird allegiance to the royal family. And they're almost all racists. They think they have the right to be, especially toward Gerudos, because of how they fought in the war. And obviously because of all the rebellions popping up in those deserts. Everybody else stopped fighting...but those beautiful Gerudos never really did. So Iron Warriors think it's okay to treat the Gerudos living here like shit. They treat all Gerudos like thieves. Who knows why. Poor Raazi drew the short end of the stick when she was born. Tell her I'll punch a few of them racists just for her down in that boxing ring. _

_ Have Ano send some more pictographs—Shad and I love seeing them. _

_ Enjoy your Lon Lon milk, be safe, kiss the others for me. And don't worry. I'll be hearing your voice in my head when I fight on Friday. So you can rest easy knowing my conscience is wide awake. _

_ xoxo Damita_

_P.S: I can't remember where I heard this, but someone once told me that the women in Ordon are the prettiest in Hyrule. Don't get carried away, big boy! _


	41. To Trust Silence

**what? **

**you don't want any more OCs?**

**TOO BAD**

**lub u**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Forty

To Trust Silence

"Hurry, hurry, we have to stop the bleeding."

"I've never seen so much blood..."

"_Move faster, he's dying!"_

* * *

"Hey, can you hear me? Stay with me, stay with me. You'll make it."

* * *

"He's as pale as a ghost."

"I wonder what kind of hell he's been through."

"Poor kid. I hope he makes it."

* * *

"We'll get you through this. But you have to push through for us, okay?"

* * *

"_Shit_, he's bleeding again."

"Move, let me help him."

"We're gonna lose him soon if we don't do something."

* * *

"Don't you dare die on us! We've spent way too much of our energy for you to die now!"

* * *

"How long has he been asleep now?"

"Five days."

"Well, at least his fever's gone down."

* * *

"The worst is over, sweetie, the worst is over. Rest now."

* * *

"He's pretty, isn't he?"

"I can't say. I haven't seen the color of his eyes."

"You're so strange sometimes. And anyway, he's a Sheikah. They have to be red."

* * *

"You have pretty hair, too. A nice, sunny shade of yellow."

* * *

"Hey, come here and help me hold him down!"

"Why, is he awake?"

"No...I think he's having a nightmare, but he's gonna destroy the whole temple."

* * *

"I don't even _want_ to know what kind of nightmare you're having."

* * *

When Sheik woke up, he was shaking, curled up on his side and hugging himself. His vision and his brain were blurred, to the point that he could neither understand nor see anything. He just sat, feeling very cold and scared.

"Hey, he's awake!" he heard. The voice sounded very distant. It couldn't have been talking about him, could it? It wasn't close enough for that. And it sounded utterly unfamiliar.

"Oh, thank the goddesses." The second voice sounded distant, too. But Sheik heard footsteps, and curled in more tightly.

"I thought I'd die before he woke up."

"But you can't—"

"Shh, it's an expression, sweetie."

"Right."

When his vision cleared, he saw four arms reaching out toward him, and he remembered the creature down in the well. He remembered everything, in a flurry of fiery images and inevitable fright. Before those outstretched hands could get any closer, he sat up and screamed. He pushed them away and dragged himself back until he felt his back against a wall. Those hands were still coming...just like they had before. Reaching out and digging into his flesh.

"Get away, get away, _get away!" _

"Shh, hey, calm down," a voice said. "We're not going to hurt you. The pain is over."

"No, stop!"

He bared his teeth and kept his hands up, in an attempt to protect himself. But then, he saw a face come into view. Not the terrible one he had seen, with sharp teeth and rotting flesh. It was the face of a young man, with vibrant green eyes and ruby red hair. His skin looked thin, papery, with an eerie orange glow. Before Sheik could do anything, the man crouched beside him and took him in his arms. He was warm. Like a soft fire was sitting on the surface of his skin. At first, Sheik tried to struggle. But the man's arms were stronger than he was. They held on tight, like a mother would a lost and lonely child. Sheik finally forced his muscles to relax, tried to make his brain understand that he was not in battle anymore. Could steady his breathing and calm his nerves.

"How do you feel?" the man asked. Sheik didn't respond, so after a few silent moments, the man continued. "You seem scared." Hearing another voice and feeling this contact was helping Sheik get his head on straight again. He slipped from his state of petrified shock into some semblance of reason once more. He recalled that creature's giant mouth closing in on his neck, and put both hands there. And then he realized that every singe part of his body was in pain. He put his hand to his head and felt bandages wrapped there, and when he glanced at his unkempt braid, he saw it splattered with blood.

_Scared is an understatement._

"Tell me when you want me to let go," the man said. Sheik nodded, so the man let go. Although, now that Sheik was really looking at his face, he wasn't sure if he was a man as much as he was a boy. He couldn't have been older than seventeen or eighteen, with a childish smile on his face. "Is that better?"

Sheik took a deep breath and hugged his knees to his chest. Although he truly couldn't move much without bursts of pain objecting. He was sitting on a hard mattress in a small, dark room. There was a stained glass window on every wall depicting some kind of dramatic historical scene, with cartoonish people and bright landscapes, and sunlight was trying to creep through the cracks. That was the only light in the room. A desk in the corner, a few chairs, nothing elaborate.

"Your eyes are very pretty," the young man suddenly said, leaning so close to Sheik that their noses almost touched. "I've never seen eyes so red before."

"Erm...thanks."

"Tempest, back off a bit," he heard another voice. "Give him some room to breathe." It was only then that he noticed a woman standing behind the young man, with olive skin and long purple hair and fierce violet eyes, lips pursed and eyebrow raised. They both wore the same robe—long and red and concealing their bodies, with a thin hood pulled over the back of their heads. They were both very beautiful.

"Where am I?" he said. He had finally found his voice.

"Poor kid, probably doesn't even know his own name," the woman sighed. He almost sensed amusement in her voice.

"Sheik," he interrupted. "My name's Sheik."

"Pretty original for a Sheikah, huh?" She lowered her hood and outstretched her hand with a grin. "Taralisse. Just call me Tara." Her hair was even longer than his. Excessively so.

He shook her hand, but he was still very uncertain about this situation. Apparently, she could tell, by the weakness in his grip. He saw strange designs on her hands.

"Still pretty shaken up, huh? I guess that's normal." She sat down beside Tempest, both on the edge of the bed upon which Sheik lay. Tempest took down his hood, too. The designs were on his hands as well.

"Where...where am I?" he asked again. Tempest smiled and leaned his cheek on Tara's shoulder. She gently stroked his hair.

"The Temple of Time," he said. "Do you like it?"

Sheik furrowed his brow and looked around, from wall to wall.

"Not how I imagined the most sacred temple in Hyrule," he murmured.

"This isn't the whole temple," Tara clarified. "This is just the back room. You know, where we live."

_What the hell is going on? Why am I back in Castilia?_

_ Wait a second. Karis is here. Maybe I can...?_

"You? Why do you live in the temple?" Sheik said. "I-I'm sorry, I'm just really, really confused right now."

"Obviously," Tara sighed. She had a certain look about her, an expression of perpetual cynicism and pretension and pursed lips. And as much as one wanted to dislike her, it was difficult. There was something alluring about her raised-eyebrow demeanor, just as there was something alluring about Tempest's childlike demeanor.

_Strange pair..._

"We're the sages of this temple," Tempest said. "The Sages of Time."

"The what?"

"The Sages of Time," Tara repeated. "We're the guardians of this temple and of time."

"Okay, guardians of the temple, I get. But how can you be guardians of time? Isn't time like...an abstract concept?"

"For you, yeah. Not for us. It's very concrete for us. Malleable, controllable. And very, _very_ dangerous if you stupid humans were to get your hands on it," she said. "We just keep an eye on it."

"I don't understand."

"You're not supposed to," Tempest said. "Only we really understand it."

"Does that mean you can, like, stop time? And make it faster and stuff?"

"Catching on, are we? Good for you," she snickered. "But we only do it when we absolutely have to. Which, unfortunately, isn't a lot of the time."

"Unfortunately?"

"It gets boring around here," Tempest sighed. "Mortal people are very boring."

"...Mortal people?"

"We don't die or age—thank Nayru for that, wrinkles would not look good on me," she said. "Think of it this way, handsome: we're guardians of time, not slaves to it like you are. It can't touch us, as long as we do the job that the goddesses have given us."

Sheik put his hands on his head and tried to make sense of it all, but it just wasn't working. He was still reeling, he guessed, from that hellish experience in the well at Kakariko. His body was definitely still reeling.

"Okay, cool, weird immortal sages of whatever the hell you said, that's great. Can you just tell me what happened to me? How did I even get here?"

"You almost died," Tempest said. The same soft, childish smile on his face. "Don't worry, though. You didn't. We helped you."

"I almost _died_?"

"One of the worst beatings I've ever seen, and I've seen a lot," Tara said. "You've been out for a week."

His head was spinning even more now. He groaned and buried his face against his legs. And then, something sitting on the bedside table glistened, caught his eye. It was the Lens of Truth. He picked it up and tinkered with it, looking at it from every angle.

_Was this worth it?_

"How'd I get here?" he asked.

"The old lady brought you."

"The old—?"

Just then, the door on the other side of the room opened. Two people strode in. One was an old, balding man with silver whiskers. Like the other sages he wore a robe, but this one was orange, and there was a stately air about the way he walked. As if he had been raised in a castle, among aristocrats. The other Sheik could have recognized from a mile away.

"You..." he seethed.

"Welcome, Child of the Shadows," the old man said. "I am Rauru, Head Sage of Time."

But Sheik was not listening. He had stood up, despite the pain that erupted through his body—no, _because_ of the pain that erupted through his body. Through every inch of it. Impa was standing completely still, staring at Sheik with that stern, austere expression. Her tranquility made him furious.

"_You did this to me!" _

She was standing completely still as Sheik ran at her, needles in his hands, ready to cut her down. There was so much anger that he could only see red, could only feel red, could only remember what she had done to him.

"Hey, handsome, stop that!" Tara and Tempest leaped from the bed and grabbed either arm, pulling him back. He struggled to get free of their grasps, wanted to see Impa's blood spill as his had.

"You abandoned me down there," he hissed. "You left me to die, you heartless witch!"

"I did nothing of the sort," she finally said. But her words just made him angrier, to the point that he was struggling so much that he was in pain.

"Oh yeah? _Look at me!_ I've been asleep for a whole goddamn week and I'm gonna have scars that will never, _ever_ heal."

"Calm yourself, my child. I am the one who brought you here. You have passed my test."

"Wonderful! At least I have your approval now. That makes the fact that I nearly died _totally_ okay, doesn't it?" he spat sarcastically.

"I like him," Tara whispered to Tempest.

"You will understand in time, Shadow Child. What matters now is that you are alive, and we have the Lens of Truth."

"The...the Lens of Truth? That's all you wanted? Listen, if you wanted it so badly, why didn't you just get it your goddamn self?"

"Defeating the DeadHand is a mark of the Shadow Guardian," she said. "I could not have done it."

"The Shadow Guardian? What the hell is that supposed to mean? When are you going to get that you speak in riddles to me, Impa?"

"They are riddles that you shall uncover soon enough. It is in your blood to understand."

"You know what, screw you and your weird Sheikah voodoo. This is _not_ what I agreed to."

"You will understand my intentions—"

"In time, yeah, yeah. You old Sheikah are all the same. Is answering a few questions really that hard? 'Cuz I'm starting to think you don't even _have_ the answers."

Impa blinked at him, but didn't say anything. Not that he expected her to. He had managed to calm down, so he wrung his arms out of Tara and Tempest's grasp. He fell back to the bed and dropped his needles onto the bedside table.

"Glad I passed your stupid test," he mumbled. Then he heard Sahasrahla's pesky voice in his head, telling him to be patient with Impa. Telling him that this test was unimaginably important.

_"__**You **_**must**_** trust Impa. Trust in her abilities to guide you, in her abilities to protect you and lead you."**_

Sheik glanced at her again and had to remind himself, bitterness on his tongue, that she was definitely more Sheikah than he was. In fact, she was the epitome of a Sheikah—and he was the epitome of a traitor. That was how he saw it. She had stayed loyal to her people all these years, even left to rot in a cell, and here he had been. Lying in the queen's shadow. And yet he had the nerve to scream at her?

_She'll get over it. _

_ Will I get over it, though?_

Sheik's gaze fell upon the old man, Rauru, standing next to Impa. He felt a strange reverence for this sage, and in an attempt to atone for his actions, stood up and bowed at the waist. So low that the tip of his bloody braid brushed the floor.

"Thanks for taking me in. I hope I haven't been any trouble," he said.

"Not at all." The old man smiled the kindest, most genuine smile Sheik had ever seen. "We are simply glad that you have survived. We were worried about you for a while there."

"S-sorry."

"Rauru and I are old friends, child," Impa said. She didn't seem to be taking his outburst to heart. "The sages are going to help us in our quest."

"You know where the Triforce is?" he asked them.

"Gods no," Tara said. "The only person who knows that is the old lady."

"Then how are they going to help us?"

Impa grinned, and that look made Sheik very, very nervous.

"Even if I tell you where the Triforce lies, we cannot take it," she said.

"What? Why?"

"Because it belongs to Link, and to Link alone. If we try to claim it for ourselves, even in its shards, terrible things will happen."

"Then what are we even doing? Zelda sent us to get the _Triforce_, not run around doing your errands!" Sheik's heart was thumping.

"Listen to me, Sheik," she said. Her voice dropped so low that it actually terrified him. "Link has his duty, I have my duty, and you have yours. Will you follow me as I guide you to find your path?"

"I...I don't—"

"Your duty is not to find the Triforce. Your duty is to protect the Triforce. But you are not ready, Guardian Child."

"Okay," he sighed. "Then what? I just sit on my ass?"

"Then we shall make you ready," she said. "Look inside yourself, Sheik. You understand more than you know."

_You say that now...but I need the Triforce._

_ Zelda told me she needs the Triforce._

"Fine. Can I go back to the castle, though? Just to see someone?"

_Just to see Karis._

"No. You cannot leave the temple."

"Nobody will see me, it's just—"

"No, my child."

Impa turned and walked out, and Sheik felt an overwhelming desire to sob.


	42. Wonders of Ordon

**Amorekristall asked me about the landscape a few chapters back and I was very rude and didn't answer**

**I'm sorry Amorekristall, you sexy person you**

**I shall answer your question now**

**AAAND rant start.**

**So the geography is kind of my own brainchild, and kind of a combination of all games. I've inserted cities and places that are included in games and in similar situations, like Kakariko (which in this story is most definitely the same as the one in Ocarina), and Ordon (which is based on the one from Twilight Princess). Then there are places like Snowhead, which is based on mountains in both Twilight (why Ashei is there) and Majora's Mask (why there are lots of Gorons there). **

**-whispers- i'll tell u a secret the sanctuary at snowhead is actually the yeti's house waaat**

**but then, there are also the completely new places. the concepts of the four separate lands is pretty much my own, but i've used influences from the different games and places to build it all. **

**so, to answer your question...**

**it's just a bunch of different things combined, no real formula. little easter eggs here and there, mostly new places inspired by old places. that'll become more obvious in the second book. **

**AAAND rant over. **

**enjoy this chapter where Link yet again is obsessed with boobs**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Forty-One

Wonders of Ordon

Link could tell that Ordon was a kind town. It was a strange way to describe a town, he knew, especially one he had never been to before. But as the sun was setting and they neared the entrance of that little town, surrounded by pastures with horses and oxen and vast, plentiful farmland sprinkled with tall trees and forestry, he could just tell. The workers of the land who lived there lined up along the fences of their farms, their sun-bronzed arms waving and their yellowed teeth smiling. Link couldn't help but feel a sense of being welcome. More so than in Snowhead, where the atmosphere was nice, but not welcoming. Not like in Ordon. And they hadn't even gone inside yet. Considering this aura emanating from the simple homes within the guarded gate, Link wasn't surprised by the long line of people getting their papers checked to go inside. The four of them had to wait an hour before they reached the entrance.

"Ravio? Did I pronounce that correctly?" the Iron Warrior asked.

"Mhmm."

"Oh, you're from here! Coming back home?"

"Mhmm."

"Well, welcome home, Mr. Ravio."

Link took his papers and waved as he walked into the town atop his horse. Anowaika, Vukan, and Raazi were waiting for him inside. Ordon was just as full of life as Link expected. It was exactly what one would imagine a town of farmers, who had for generations lived off the land, to look like. Dirt roads that were dented from the hooves of the horses and their carriages; homes that were small and simple, but colorful and beautiful with red, pointed roofs; dogs and cats and barefoot children running around with wooden swords, weaving their way among lush trees and shrubbery. The sun had almost gone down, so the farmers were flowing in from the pastures and the fields from a long day of work, with their hats and their overalls and their smiles. The town was big enough that Link could imagine himself getting lost, and it wasn't like Snowhead Village where everybody knew everybody. But it was small enough to feel like a true home. Just to the west, if one looked over the tops of the homes, was the entrance into the forsaken Faron Woods. And to the east, at the other end of town, was a religious temple. Not as big as the Temple of Time, but certainly of the same architecture.

As Raazi begged to dismount and Anowaika began her obligatory rant of the new town, Link remembered something. Fado, his employer back in Castilia, was originally from Ordon. He used to tell Link that that was how he knew so much about horses and farming. Most of the people in the town were Hylians.

And there were at least ten times as many Iron Warriors here than there had been at Snowhead. Roaming the streets. Pushing people around. Spewing insults and waving their weapons at mischievous children. Link could imagine the sneers beneath those helmets.

"Oh, I know some trivia about this place!" Ano smiled as she stroked Flare's neck. "Wanna hear it?"

"Yes, I would," Raazi said. She was walking alongside Vukan, a good distance from the horses. All the carriages, farmers, and inhabitants of the town either waved or looked at them incredulously. It was clear that they were outsiders. Link could tell that the Iron Warriors had noticed, too. But they did nothing.

"Well, it's one of the oldest towns in Hyrule. Obviously Castilia is the oldest—by a lot. But Ordon is only a few hundred years younger than Kakariko. They've been farming and raising horses and living here for thousands and thousands of years. It was originally a really, really small village hidden in a forest that used to encompass this entire area, composed of Hylians. Probably about twenty or so. That's why nowadays, it's still almost all Hylians. But since it's kind of close to the northern-most border with the Zora Isles, a lot of Zoras live here, too. All farmers and laborers and such. A pristine little town, really."

"How interesting," Raazi mused. "I cannot see a single Gerudo."

"You stick out like a sore thumb," Link said with a wink.

"So does Vukan," Ano added. Link felt as if he had been born in this place, had actually lived here at some point in his life (perhaps another life?). Maybe he had—for all he knew, his name really could've been Ravio from Ordon. The people whose eyes he met had a look about them, of hard work and contentment, that Link wished he could feel. Those eyes were windows into their comfortable souls, in their comfortable town, filled with streams and farms and trees and happy, full children. Nothing like the majority of Castilia.

Then again, there was something in those eyes. Something other than comfort that was hardly visible, but there. A sort of desperation, a plea. For freedom, perhaps, from the queen's Iron Fist.

"The sun is setting," Raazi said. "We should find this man little cat told us about."

Anowaika wasted no time. She pulled Flare to stop and turned to the sidewalk. "Excuse me, do any of you know where Lon Lon Pub is?"

"Go straight down this road, then turn right at the first fork in the road. You'll know it when you see it," said a young woman passing by. Anowaika thanked her, and they followed her instructions. Down the road, passing by the others on the sidewalk and in their carriages and on their horses, pulling alongside them cows and oxen. Now that the sun had almost completely gone down, people were lighting street lanterns. The younger inhabitants of the city were coming out, drinks in hand.

When the four of them turned the corner, they immediately could tell which building the pub was. Its lights could be seen from the other end of the street, and similar to Telma's Inn back in Castilia, there was an almost constant flow of people in and out. They could hear music, loud and proud, coming from within the building's walls. Anowaika's smile broadened, and Raazi looked at Link with raised eyebrows. He shrugged and ushered them forward. There was a post outside, where other horses were already tied and drinking from the water. Link and Anowaika dismounted and tied the reins of their horses to this post. Link whispered an affectionate goodbye in Epona's ear before leading the others through the wooden door of Lon Lon Pub.

It reminded him a lot of Telma's place. Loud, bustling, exciting and warm. There was a stage, where a band of people played their music and the patrons danced. The four of them attracted the eyes of almost every single person inside the pub. A pretty average-looking guy, with a Gerudo on his right side, a Zora on his left, and a giant Goron towering behind them. Definitely not a sight usually seen in a place like Ordon.

"Well, howdy there! Y'all don't look too familiar. Welcome to Lon Lon Pub." A tall, rowdy man with a round stomach and a lot of facial hair approached them, hands on his hips and a mustached smile. When he moved or breathed, it seemed as if he could move all the air around him at will. And he could draw attention to himself with every twitch of his muscle, while his voice made the world vibrate. Link nodded to him as he approached (assuming he was the owner Shad had told him about), and extended his hand silently. The man let out a hearty laugh, grabbed Link's hand, and stepped forward to clap his hand to his back.

But as the man got closer, and his mouth came up to Link's ear, he said in a nervous voice, "It's not safe to talk here, my boy. Go to the door in the back and wait for me in the room there."

Then he turned around and began a conversation with the patrons at the nearest table, as if he hadn't even seen Link and his friends. Link turned over his shoulder at them, giving a quiet shrug. Certainly this man had recognized them, though he had acted like he hadn't. They all looked at each other in confusion, until Vukan gave a loud grunt and, with his world-encompassing arms, pushed them forward through the rowdy crowds. With him around, it seemed as if the people were deliberately clearing a path for them, murmuring to themselves about the giant Goron—bigger than any they had ever seen before—and his strange friends.

They followed the instructions of the man and found a door at the back, past the stage where the band performed and past the counter where drinks were being passed to paying customers. As they walked, weaved among the tables, Link caught the eye of a waitress with a tray of mugs in one hand and her other hand on her hip. She turned and saw him and, for a fleeting moment, smiled at him. Her hair was long and straight and bright orange, falling cleanly to her swinging hips. Freckles dotted her face, and they seemed to dance when she smiled. Her eyes were sparkling and blue, and she wore a blouse with a simple blue scarf tucked into an embroidered skirt that fell to her ankles.

Link couldn't take his eyes off her.

_That might be the most beautiful girl I've ever seen._

As much as he wanted to stand and stare at her, watch her smile at him forever, Vukan's arms pushed him forward. She turned away after a single second, tending to the tables. And then the four of them walked through that door and into the room about which they had been told. It was larger than they had expected, with sofas lining the walls, a fireplace in the back—not currently being used—with lit lanterns and framed pictographs. A beautiful, hand-woven rug adorned the ground. A table, already set with four mugs of milk (famous Lon Lon milk, Link hoped) stood in the center of the room. They took their seats, Link and Vukan on one side and Anowaika and Raazi on the other. Link didn't drink his milk because it wasn't warm and there wasn't any honey in it.

"Wow, this is amazing," Anowaika said after her first sip. "No wonder they're so famous for it."

The others seemed to agree. Link leaned his neck back and clasped his hands behind his neck, taking a deep breath and closing his eyes so he could picture that girl's face again. She was right outside that door, smiling to someone else when he wanted so badly for her to be smiling at him.

_She must be one of the beautiful Ordonian girls Damita warned me about._

He opened his eyes and caught Raazi looking at him from across the table with pursed lips and her mysterious smile. As if she could read his mind. Before she could say anything, though, the door opened, and the large man walked in. They stood up to greet him while he closed the door.

"Goddesses almighty, it's a zoo out there," he breathed. "Now we can properly introduce ourselves!" He put his hands on his hips in a very definitive manner and looked straight into Link's eyes, in a way that made him almost uncomfortable. "You must be Link. I've heard so much about you—amazing, what a kid like you is doing. Wish I had guts like that when I was your age! Pleasure to finally meet you. My name is Talon."

They shook hands again, Talon's strength putting very unexpected pressure on Link's wrist. Link nodded, but said nothing else. Anowaika stepped forward next and extended her webbed fingers. Vukan at her heels.

"I'm Anowaika. And this here is Vukan."

"Hello Anowaika, hello Vukan. Hell if I've _ever_ seen a Goron that size."

"My name is Scheherazade, but you can call me Raazi."

"Hoo, what a name. And what a face."

"You are too sweet," she smiled.

"Please, please, sit down and make yourselves comfortable. I want to have a proper conversation with you before we get things going, you know?" Talon rolled up the sleeves of his shirt, revealing thick, hairy tree-trunk arms. He lit the fire in the fireplace, even though it wasn't very cold, and then plunged down onto the sofa beside Link.

"No one'll interrupt us in here?" Link asked.

"Nope. My daughter might pop in, but you can trust her. Other people know to stay out."

"Good."

"The pub is wonderful," Anowaika said. "I mean, the whole town is great. It's very lively."

"At night it is," Talon replied. "Not so much during the day. Most people are out working the fields then. The children run around like crazy—as much as we try to tell them to go to school, most of them just don't. But it sure is a party when the sun goes down!"

They talked about it for a few minutes, while Link tried to hide the fact that he couldn't stop looking at the door. Hoping that by some stroke of fate, he could see that girl again. Even if it was just for a split second.

"Tell me, Talon. How do you know Shad?" Raazi asked.

"That eccentric boy, what a character he is! Great, great kid. Back before travelling became as difficult as it is nowadays, I used to take deliveries of milk to Castilia myself. Of course I stopped doing that a few years ago, but before I did, I met Shad. He loves our milk and always ordered at least one bottle. Anyway, one day he asked me if I wanted to be part of your alliance—you know, like a special connection here in Ordon. I agreed, and that's why you're here," Talon explained. "I want to help you in any way that I can."

"Why?" Link asked. He was interested in the conversation now. He was always interested in why people were interested in joining the underground fight against Zelda. As small as it was, he knew it was growing.

"It's a sick world out there, kiddies," he sighed. He wiped the sweat on his thick, dark brow and his exhalation made the whole couch shake. "I've seen some terrible things in my day. I...I wish that my daughter had been raised in a better world. I wish she didn't have to live where we can't even open our mouths without looking over our shoulders. I want her to be free to do what she wants."

"You do this for your daughter," Raazi summarized. Talon smiled and looked at the ground, wringing his fingers together.

"Yup. I'm doing this so she can have a real future. Without those damn Iron Warriors watching her every move. The people here in Ordon try to stay out of trouble, you know? Most of us are just farmers, simple people, trying to live our lives. As hard as that can be sometimes. But there's a select few of us that know we have a bigger job to do. We're trying to make ripples."

"That is what we ask," Raazi smiled.

"But now we're asking more," Link said softly. They all turned to him. None of them had ever heard him say something like that. "We're not just asking for ripples anymore. I want to start a real revolution, something that bubbles under the ground and then explodes with such force that Zelda can't ever hope to quell it."

Talon was silent for a few moments, wide-eyed. But then he let out an earth-shattering laugh and clapped Link on the back.

"That's what I like to hear!"

The door opened then. Link's muscles tensed as he turned to see who this intruder might be...and they became even more tense when he saw the girl with the orange hair standing there, hands clasped behind her back. Her smile was so effortless.

"Ah, good, you're here," Talon said. "Everyone, this is my daughter, Malon."

"Pleasure to meet y'all," she said with a small curtsy. She took a seat beside Raazi, across the table from Link. They all made their introductions, one after another. And then it was his turn. He locked eyes with her and leaned forward, extending his hand.

"Link," he said. He flashed his crooked smile. "Pleasure to meet you, Malon."

She stared at him, a similar smile on her own lush lips. Then she shook his hand and it made his skin hot.

"The pleasure's all mine, Link." She tucked a strand of orange hair behind her pointed ear. He hoped that nobody else could sense how entranced he was, unaware of everything else around him. He could only see her blue eyes and perfect little freckles and hourglass frame.

"Well, now that the gang's all here, let's get down to business," Talon said. "Tell me about this quest of yours. Malon and I will do everything in our power to help you. Won't we, baby doll?"

"Of course, Daddy."

Raazi explained the legend of the Triforce, about how they had already found one shard and were looking for the second, which they believed to be in Faron Woods. At the mention of the woods, Malon and Talon looked at each other with sweat rolling down their cheeks, and bit their lips. As if there were words trying to escape their tongues. Link watched their reactions like a hawk. Raazi told them exactly what she had told Ashei in Snowhead: if it was there, they would know. There had to be some sort of indication.

"Well, if the Tri-doohickey is here, then there's no doubt it's in those woods," Talon said. "There's nowhere else it could be. Not to mention all the crazy things that happen there."

"Crazy? Crazy how?" Ano asked.

"Nobody has ever gone into that forest and come back alive," Malon said softly. She was looking at Link when she said it. There was a small, amused grin on her face as she spoke, like she was telling a ghost story. "Legend has it that a monster lives in the Forest Temple that lies in those woods, and that it comes out to eat _anybody_ who dares enter its forest."

"Scary," he murmured, and raised his eyebrows at her.

"There's a Forest Temple?" Ano interrupted.

"Sure is. Thousands and thousands of years old."

"If the Triforce is in the woods, it will be in the temple," Raazi said. "I know why those woods are dangerous."

"You do?" Talon cried. "Does it have something to do with that Tri-whatever?"

"The Triforce is using the forest as a defense mechanism. It will do anything to keep from falling into wrong hands. Those who are not meant for Triforce will not be able to find it."

"So you're saying that people who went into the forest got too close to this thing, and ended up biting the dust because of some divine protection?" he asked. Raazi nodded. "Wow. For a Gerudo, you sure know a lot."

"Daddy, come on."

They were all silent, and Link decided to ignore that last comment. Just as Raazi did.

"We have to go into the forest," Link broke the silence. Talon and Malon looked at each other again. "Preferably during the day."

"Um, there's one other problem that tends to keep people away from those woods," Talon said. "It might put a dent in your plans."

"What problem?"

"There's a wolf that always stands at the entrance of those woods," Malon replied. "It's already killed three people—and those who manage to get past it end up disappearing in the woods. It's a really violent animal, and every time we think we've killed it, it just comes back to life."

_A wolf? Guarding the front of the woods?_

"Another defense mechanism," Raazi smiled. "Right, little wolf?"

Link smiled back and shrugged.

"Guess we'll just have to go say hello."

* * *

**more boobage and wolves and other fun things to come**

**yay review plz**

**lub**


	43. Lens of Truth

**here's a short one**

**filled with sheik and mystery**

**enjoy**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Two

Lens of Truth

Sheik was getting restless. His muscles felt weaker and he couldn't sit down for more than five minutes. He paced, hopped along the wooden floors, stretched his arms and worked his flexibility. It was the middle of the day now, so Tara and Tempest had gone to handle (Sheik assumed) their duties as the sages of the temple. He wasn't sure where Rauru and Impa had gone. And the goddesses only knew how many people came in and out of the Temple of Time everyday; it was one of the most sacred places in all of Hyrule, where the most pious of Hyruleans came to pray and ask advice of the sages. Sheik had actually never been. In the Sheikah neighborhood he had lived in during his childhood, they had their own rituals and religious ceremonies. The Temple of Time never really fit into the picture. But it was all right. He actually preferred being alone at that moment. Alone to suffer in the pain of his neck and his head and the soreness of his limbs.

He stared at himself in a small, dirty mirror in the corner of the room. The wraps around his head and neck were soaked with blood; he would have to change them soon, he guessed. In the state he was in, it would be hard to truly disguise himself if he would need it.

_Damn it, why'd I have to fight that thing anyway?_

He thought about what Impa and Sahasrahla had said to him, stared resentfully at the Lens of Truth lying on the bed, and tried to make sense of it all. Her words, her actions, the way she looked at him; all of it was running through his head in the most disorganized way possible. Finally starting to get tired after what seemed like hours of hopping around, he sat cross-legged on the bed and held the lens in his hand. Traced its edges, noticed with chills how its shape was based on the traditional Sheikah eye. He racked his brain for the stories—stored deeply inside—he had heard about the lens.

_The Sheikah who created the lens was a man loyal to the royal family hundreds of years ago, back when the Sheikah people were beginning to build their lives in Kakariko. His house was where the well is today, situated above the entirety of the city's water supply. Legend has it that there was a civil war during this time, when the Sheikah were still unflinchingly loyal to the royal family. But, with the lens of truth at his disposal, the creator betrayed the royal family for reasons we still don't know. As punishment, his house was destroyed and sent to the bottom of the well. Then he, too, was taken down there, tortured, and executed for high treason. But his soul remains down there in the well, the lens along with it. His soul, blackened by evil and darkness, was sealed away in the well long ago, never to return..._

But the lens, Sheik realized then, remained. Protected by demons and monsters once summoned by the haunted soul of that Sheikah.

_I always thought that was just a ghost story,_ Sheik thought. The lens suddenly seemed heavier in his hands. In fact, he could hardly believe that something he used to hear stories about was actually in front of him. _Just something to scare us into being good little boys and girls._

His curiosity got the best of him. Sheik, his scratched fingers trembling slightly, brought the lens up to his right eye and closed his left. To see what the world looked like through its haunted window. After all, according to Impa, there was no way to find the Triforce without it.

Nothing looked different. Only cloaked in a veil of purple color, and rippling every few moments. He swept his gaze across the room. Still, there was nothing but the silence and loneliness and the confusion within his mind.

Until a face appeared at the door.

With a gasp, Sheik dropped the lens and jumped back against the headboard of the bed. Where the face had just been was clear now.

_What...what the hell was that?_

Gathering his wits again, Sheik brought the lens back up to his eye. Lo and behold, the face was there again—but only when he looked through the lens. It was the face of a young woman, with blonde hair like his and red eyes and an expressionless face. When he looked closer, he saw an entire body, not just a face. She was wearing a flowing white dress. And she was staring right at him. Sheik tried to call out to her, but she didn't even blink, as if she couldn't hear him. He wondered if she could sense anything at all

_What is going on?_

It didn't seem like this apparition, this ghost, this phantom, whatever it was, was going to do anything. In fact, she had probably been standing there from the beginning.

_But only with the Lens of Truth am I able to see her._

Sheik's interest was definitely piqued now. He smiled to himself and gripped the handle of the lens more tightly. He moved toward the door and, just for the heck of it, brought the lens up and tried to touch the girl. Not to his surprise, he couldn't. His bandaged fingers went straight through her body. He wished that he could ask her what had made her haunt the Temple of Time.

He opened the door just enough that he could look through the crack, and see the vast room of the Temple of Time. All white stone, wide windows that let the sunlight in, complicated altars and pedestals at the front. Just as he expected, there were people almost constantly coming in and out, praying at the altars, speaking softly to Tempest and Tara (who stood otherwise silently by the pedestals). Sheik, adrenaline finally pulsing through his veins again, lifted the lens to look at Tempest and Tara.

It was the strangest thing he had ever seen. He saw them, as they were...but he saw more, too. Apparitions that looked like them and stood right beside them. The second Tara wasn't wearing her robe, but a red shirt and tight black leggings, with her hair tied up in a ponytail. She had tears streaming down her cheeks and a pipe in her lips and a bar of chocolate in her hands. When Sheik removed the lens, just as he expected, only the first Tara was there. As for the second Tempest, he stood with his arms crossed and a white tunic and brown breeches, as if he were just any other civilian. His skin looked less ghostly.

_Holy shit,_ Sheik thought in realization. _The lens...it shows me the inner souls of every person. It lets me see people as they truly are—or once were, at least. If they're not already dead, that is._

He closed the door and went back inside. The childish smile on his face disappeared when he decided to move toward the mirror. He wanted to see his own inner soul, because it was so hard for him to discern with his naked eye and his chaotic mind. He stared at his reflection and lifted up the lens.

His soul was a child. Him, when he was only eight years old. Smiling such a big smile that it took over his entire face, bouncing around and blinking innocently. A pure, beautiful child. And just when Sheik was about to lower the lens, something else happened. The child disappeared and a different person appeared. Someone cloaked in shadows with a hunched back and piercing, frightening eyes. He was so dark that, though Sheik knew it represented him, he couldn't see his face. The worst part was the blood dripping from his hands.

After a few moments, that person disappeared, and the child was back.

Shaking, Sheik lowered the lens.

_I have two. _

"I see you have come to understand the meaning of the lens," he heard as he saw Impa appear, like a ghost, behind him in the mirror. He slowly turned around and nodded. After what had happened, he couldn't even bring himself to look her in the eye. Then, knowing that she would do absolutely nothing to stop him, he looked at her through the lens.

Impa's inner soul looked exactly like her...except that she was broken. Like her entire body had been shattered and haphazardly glued back together. He could see the rough edges of her pieces trying to fit together, but not truly being able to. She was jagged and more broken, more hopelessly shattered, than anything he had ever seen. And he had broken his fair share of glass ornaments throughout his days at the castle. Her soul was staring blankly back at him, tears running down her face, and her white tattoos were smeared red with blood. Silently, Sheik lowered the lens. Impa smiled.

_She is so broken._

"Have you seen the Truth?" she asked.

"That depends on what kind of truth you're talking about," he shrugged. "Probably not. I'm still confused as hell."

"That is normal."

"Impa, can I be honest with you?"

"Of course."

"I don't know what to think about you." He sat down on the bed. "I wish you could just give me the real answers that I need, and I _hate_ you for making me so furious. But...I feel like I should trust you somehow."

_She has suffered so much. This must be what Sahasrahla was talking about._

"I am not keeping answers from you," she said. "They are not my answers to give. They are your answers to find."

"See, it's stupid shit like that that just makes my blood boil, you know?" he sighed.

"Listen to me, Sheik." She sat down on the bed beside him and, before he could react, took his face in her hands and turned him until he was facing her, their eyes connected like he'd never been connected to anybody before. "Listen to me well. There will come a time, soon, when you will open your own eyes and see everything for yourself. **You will be awakened and understand exactly what it is that you need to do." **

** "What am I supposed to do until then? Snoop on people with this lens? I don't know what kind of Truth I'm looking for—all I know is that I'm supposed to find the Triforce. I need to find it, for Zelda." **

** "But why for Zelda? Why do anything for anybody?" **

** "B-because I...I vowed to her that..." **

Sheik's voice trailed off. He had had an answer so ready—he was always ready to answer the why question. For twelve years he had known the answer. But looking into Impa's eyes like that, hearing her ask the question and truly meaning it, he couldn't answer.

He suddenly didn't know the answer.

And she knew that he didn't.

"Let me tell you a story, my child," Impa said, and lowered her hands. He nodded wordlessly and cross his legs. "It may help you."

"I'll take anything I can get."

* * *

As a member of the tribe, you surely understand our origins. We are the people chosen by the goddesses as the divine guardians of the goddess Hylia and her descendants.

Hylia...right. The goddess entrusted with the Triforce when the three golden goddesses left Hyrule. But I thought that was just legend.

No. She is the very reason the Sheikah were given the sacred duty of guardianship. We were given this duty, to protect Hylia. But after the first war, against the wishes of our Sheikah ancestors, the goddess gave up her immortal form and—

And incarnated her soul into a mortal body.

Yes. This mortal body became the ancestor the Royal Family of Hyrule still thriving today.

Right, and that's why the Sheikah still consider themselves guardians of the Royal Family. Because they're descendants of the goddess Hylia.

You have heard this story before?

Sure. My parents and the other elders told me all of this when I was a kid.

Did they tell you about the Shadow Guardian?

...No. When you said it earlier, it was the first time I'd heard of anything like that.

Now comes the story I want to tell you. When the Sheikah tribesmen and women understood their duties, they carried them out perfectly and taught their descendants the virtues of loyalty and compassion. They knew what their purpose was, and they fulfilled it for hundreds and hundreds of years. The Royal Family was always grateful to the Sheikah, whom they also considered their faithful guardians. We garnered the title 'Shadow of the Hylians' for our actions. There was a time, however, when an usurper attempted to take the crown. This threat was so shrouded in evil that even we could not see it. The Royal Family was almost wiped out.

But during this time of darkness, a Sheikah with abilities that far surpassed the others appeared. Nobody could recall seeing this Sheikah before, and no parents came to claim their child. It was as if this Sheikah had been sent from the heavens.

This was the Shadow Guardian?

Yes. With an eye that could see all truths and power over shadow magic, this Sheikah was able to reveal the usurper, defeat it, and protect the Royal Family. As you know, the Sheikah had long before had strong shadow magic capabilities. But this Sheikah's magical abilities were far beyond normal. The Sheikah could see through any lie, any evil, any shroud or veil. This specific Sheikah was given the title Shadow Guardian, and honored as the one who would continue to fulfill the prophecy of the Sheikah tribe.

Nobody knows where this Sheikah came from?

No. Not even to this day. My theory is that the goddesses, seeing the importance of our duties and understanding how high the stakes were, sent down a Sheikah to be the one true guardian of Hylia's descendants. And, like the goddess herself, the soul of this Sheikah is reincarnated into those who come generations after. Sheikah with unbelievable shadow magic abilities, senses unlike any other, and incomparable loyalty.

Why haven't I ever heard that story before? It seems kind of important.

I have an idea about that, as well.

Wait, does all this mean...you think _I'm_ the Shadow Guardian?

* * *

That was the end of the conversation. Impa stood with her stone-cold expression and touched the teardrop tattoo on Sheik's cheek. But only for a moment. Then she turned and walked out, leaving him with more questions than he'd had in the first place.


	44. Hay Lullaby

**yay another chapter! **

**thanks to everyone still keeping up with this story, just having readers means the world to me :) **

**enjoy link's shenanigans**

**for they are many**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Three

Hay Lullaby

Talon left them in that room after telling Malon to make sure she got them situated safely. They owned a small cottage down the road in which the mercenaries would sleep, and down the road was a barn in which the horses could stay. As it turned out, Malon had been fond of horses since she was a child, and owned multiple—friends of the cows they used for their famous Lon Lon milk. Tomorrow, she was going to take them out to Faron Woods. But for now, the five of them sat in that back room together, and ate a hefty dinner prepared for them by Talon and Malon. Link wanted to feel comfortable, of course, but there was just no way. Not when everything was running through his brain at once. Getting into Faron Woods, trying to start a revolution, remembering a past he didn't want to believe existed, and now this beautiful girl with a breathtaking smile sitting right across from him telling jokes (that only made Ano laugh, really).

"Hey, you," Malon suddenly said. She pointed to Link's full glass of milk, and her lower lip jutted out in a pout that made his skin feel hot. "You haven't had any of our milk. Don't you want to try it? It's famous, you know."

"Sure. But I only drink milk with honey."

"Oh?" She raised her eyebrows and tilted her head. "Why's that?"

He shrugged, and could tell that everyone else was looking at them. "Do I need a reason?"

Malon stood up and grabbed his mug, then walked toward the door.

"One spoonful of honey, coming right up."

As soon as she was gone, Anowaika was up in arms.

"What is that look on your face, huh, Link?" she cried with a mischievous grin. She pointed at him accusingly.

"What look?" he asked with a grin. But he knew exactly what look she was talking about.

"You like her, don't you?"

"I don't know if I'd say it like that," he shrugged.

_But hell if I've seen anyone more gorgeous._

"Ha! You do. Baby Link's gotta crush!" she teased. She and Raazi chuckled, and Link thought he might have even caught a glimpse of a smile on Vukan's lips.

"So what?"

"As long as you are focused on the Triforce, it does not matter much," Raazi said.

"Yeah, yeah. I'm focused."

Malon walked back in and put the mug in front of him. When she bent down, he could smell her musky air and the liveliness of her body, and if he had reached out only a few inches, he could have felt her thick hair in his fingers.

"Hope that's sweet enough for you," she grinned. Before she sat back down, he snuck her a wink. He had heard once that his winks were killer, so he figured now would be a good time to use one. When he saw her cheeks get red, he knew it had worked.

_Like a charm._

* * *

When they were finished, Malon led them back out through the pub. At that point, all the patrons were drunk enough that they didn't even have to act too inconspicuous—even with the Iron Warriors hanging around the bar. They seemed pretty tipsy, too. Link could imagine Damita really enjoying a place like this. The band was still going, and some people were dancing. Link looked at Malon and wondered how high he would be if she danced with him.

They followed Malon out through the front door, into the late night Ordon and its beauties. Anowaika and Link retrieved their horses, and he gave Epona a sugar cube that he had snuck from the pub. She rammed her head against his cheek gratefully.

"Your horse is just _beautiful,_" Malon gushed as they walked down the road. The barn was just a few minutes away, she assured them. She and Link walked side by side while he pulled his horse along. Malon had a funny way of walking. She swung her legs out beneath her and kept her hands behind her back, so that she bounced a little with each step and kicked up the dirt in front of her. "What's her name?"

"Epona."

"A pretty name, too."

"Pretty name for a pretty girl," he said. Malon chuckled with her own crooked smile, and tucked her hair behind her pointed ear. She had the prettiest little pearl earrings on.

"Thanks so much for dinner, Malon," Anowaika said. "It was delicious."

"No, don't thank me. It was my pleasure. Daddy and I are real excited to have you here," she replied. "You breathe new life into this place. For us, at least. And hopefully for other people."

She spoke quietly, and Link couldn't help but notice the overwhelming number of Iron Warriors roaming the streets. Like they were just waiting for a reason to be nasty. Link had his own reasons. But he just walked with them back to the barn.

It was pretty big, with about sixteen different stalls. Four of them were filled with different horses. Another four were inhabited by slow, big-eyed cows. In the back was a large pile of hay that Link thought looked really great for a nap sometime. Once Epona was in her stall, Link scratched her in between the ears and kissed her nose lightly.

"Seems like you two are pretty close," Malon said. She was standing just behind Link, her hands still behind her back. "I can tell a good relationship when I see one. I've spent my whole life around horses."

"Yeah?"

"Mhmm. They seem to like me, too."

"All of these are yours?"

"Yup."

"Epona doesn't like people much. But she's my baby."

"Do you mind if I...do you mind if I pet her?"

Link looked at her, with her nervous smile and eager eyes, and the way her body swayed back and forth as if there was a breeze. His hand was still on Epona's muzzle.

"You can if you want," he sighed, "but she might try to take a bite out of you. Like I said before, she doesn't like people. It's a miracle I get her to listen to me."

"That's okay. I want to pet her anyway."

Malon stepped forward and stood on her tiptoes, looked straight into Epona's eyes. Link watched with his brow furrowed in skepticism.

_Be a good girl, Epona._

"Such a pretty girl, aren't you?" Malon said, in much the same manner that Link so often did. Then, without a single worry, she lifted her hand and put it on Epona's nose. Link almost cringed, waiting for the moment that Epona would rear her head, neigh, bite down on whatever was in sight, as she always did.

But she didn't do that this time. "Aw, you're not so scary, are you?" She let Malon pet her, stroke her hair for a few moments, before she bobbed her head and shrank back into the stall. Malon laughed and just the sound gave Link chills.

"Guess she only likes you, huh?" she said.

"Actually, I've never seen her act like that with anyone," he replied. "She must like you, too."

"Well that's good to hear."

He wondered if she bit her lip like that out of habit, or just to make his heart stop on purpose. If it was the latter...

_It worked._

* * *

Link stayed up that night and his eyes took turns staring at the ceiling, the Fierce Deity mask Kafei had given him, the map, the pictograph of the Fierce Deities, and the back of his un-gloved left hand. And, of course, every so often, he would close his eyes to get a glimpse of Malon, too. Goddesses, was she beautiful. But if she stayed too long in his head, he knew he would get distracted. He couldn't afford that, not now. Not when there were so many answers he needed, so many hidden questions he still didn't know how to ask. He figured he should've been concentrating more on figuring out who he was, what the Triforce meant, how he was going to start an entire revolution. Although with people like Ashei and Talon on his side, maybe it wasn't impossible. And, of course, with his friends around, they were nearly unstoppable.

_A wolf won't stop us._

But as determined as Link was to get into that forest, he still couldn't understand why.

_To foil Zelda's plans, of course._

Yet he couldn't help believe somewhere inside him that there was another reason. That there was a voice in his head, one other than his own, calling to him. Like it were coming from above and descending upon him like droplets of rain that blurred his thoughts and his vision. Whatever the reason, whatever the result, whatever those goddesses (which Link still couldn't bring himself to believe in) ended up doing, Link was already in too deep. He had no choice but to go all the way and see what happened.

But he had a pretty good idea of what would happen.

_Revolution, Zelda. Get ready._

Link stared at the Fierce Deity mask for a while. He even considered putting it on. But he felt a gnawing at his heart that told him he shouldn't. That it was a bad idea. That somehow, he would know when it was time to put on that mask.

_Hell, I don't even know what this stupid thing is supposed to do. I guess my old self does, though—the one that I don't remember. He seems to know exactly what he's doing._

Just then, in the midst of his chaotic thoughts, Link heard a strange sound. It sounded like a voice in the distance, making gargled sounds. As if it were calling to someone, its voice wafting in the cool night air. He swung his legs onto the wooden floor of that small cottage being lent to them by Talon, stood up from the simple bed. He slipped his shirt over his bare torso and hastily tied up his hair as he tiptoed across the single room where they all slept. Just before he stepped into his boots and walked out the door, he grabbed his sword, too.

_You never know what'll happen in a parasite-infested place like this._

It was the middle of the night, and the streets were deserted. This was the type of town in which the people slept when it became dark, because they had to work when it became light. But there were the street lanterns to light his way. He heard the voice more clearly once he was outside. He could tell now that it was humming—singing?—in a melodic, mesmerizing, hypnotizing way that made his fingers tighten around the grip of his sword. And now that he could hear it better, he could tell that it was close. Very close.

With cautious footsteps (for he had become a master in the art of cautious footsteps) he walked in the direction of the voice. Down the street, one step after another, pausing every once in a while to reaffirm that the voice was still there. Still drawing him in like the call of a siren. Link found himself in front of the barn then, and knew the voice was coming from inside. He stood outside it, completely still and silent for a few moments. The front doors were slightly open, allowing the yellow light to spill onto the cobblestones of the sidewalk. He could hear the voice like crystal now. As if it were right in his ear. He didn't want to open the door for fear that the voice would disappear, so he crept to a small window at the side of the building. He stood on his tiptoes to peer inside. He had never liked how unfortunately short he was.

The barn was just as he had left it earlier that night. The horses and the cows in their stables, the lights flickering, a beautiful and familiar scent of animals and sweat and dirt. But this time, on the pile of hay in the back, there was someone lying. He knew in an instant that it was Malon. She lay on her back on that pile of hay—as Link had done so many times when he had slept on the job at Fado's—with her eyes closed and her body still. But there was a smile on her lips, and she opened them to sing her little song. There were no words to it.

_La la laaaa...la la laaaa...la la laaa laa laaa..._

He had to watch her. He had to watch her because he couldn't look away. That would have been treachery to his own soul, which thirsted so much for her. Here she was in her most pure state, innocent and gentle and wrapped in the night. He couldn't have looked away even if he'd wanted to. It would have destroyed him.

Link must have stood there for at least an hour, watching her and listening to her and comparing the color of her hair and the color of her eyes and the color of her skin to different things that popped into his head.

_She doesn't sleep at night, either._

Eventually Malon stood up and left, and Link hid to make sure she didn't see him. By the time she did it was about four in the morning and the effort exerted in calming the beating of his heart had taken its toll. So Link walked into the barn and fell asleep on that pile of hay, lulled by Epona's neighs and the remains of Malon's song in his ever-hungry ear. He even convinced himself that he could smell Malon there.

* * *

Raazi was the one who found him the next morning. She woke him up gently, her bracelet-clad hand on his shoulder and silky smooth voice in his ear. Then she tugged lightly on his blue earring.

"Little wolf. Wake up. It is morning."

He swatted her away and rolled over in his pile of hay, curled up into himself. Waking up, he knew, would mean returning to a reality that required him to enter a forsaken place for purposes that still were not very clear to him. But for someone like Link, clarity wasn't ever a necessity. He never asked for it, and he never needed it. So when Raazi urged him again, he sat up and told her he'd be ready soon. That whenever Malon was ready, they could go out to Faron Woods and do what they had come here to do.

_That song is stuck in my head._

Though it was a nice respite from the song that the girl with the red ribbons always sang to him in his dreams. A nice, much-needed respite.

Once they were all ready, with their weapons and their determination, Malon—who had arrived early at the cottage with milk jugs in hand—led them to the outskirts of the city. There was an entrance to the north, south, east, and west of Ordon. But the one to the west wasn't guarded by Iron Warriors. It was the entrance that led straight to Faron Woods. If one walked a few meters outside of Ordon from this entrance, they would come across that barricade of trees, growing until it was an army that brought fear and darkness to the Ordonians.

Walking beside Malon, Link couldn't bring himself to look her in the eyes. Something had changed in the way he saw her after last night. She was still beautiful, still easy to talk to, still impossible to look away from. But there was something else in her now. Something that made him feel guilty for the dirty thoughts in his head. And he was all too aware of how close she walked next to him. Their shoulders almost brushed. It was the same way Damita walked when she wanted him, too.

Nobody said anything except for Anowaika and Malon. They talked, the Zora took pictographs, they asked and answered questions—Ano about life in Castilia, Malon about life in Ordon. For, as they learned, she had never left Ordon before. Only in her dreams. She even ventured to ask Anowaika about her life as a Zora in the capital city, and Anowaika had to say, "Well, it's fine. But I have nothing to compare it to. I have no idea what it's like to be a Zora anywhere else."

When they reached the western exit, Malon stopped and took a deep breath.

"This is as far as I go," she said.

"Really? Is it that scary?" Anowaika gaped. Malon shook her head and gave a reassuring smile.

"I just don't want to get in your way. I have to get back and help Daddy, anyway."

"Oh, right...okay."

"Be careful," Malon continued. It was directed to all of them, but Link was certain then that she was looking at him. "We'll have dinner ready for you when you come back. So you better come back!"

"Take care of Epona while I'm gone," Link smiled. And then relished in her blush.

She waved to them as they walked on down the path, the four of them, unsure of what to expect but ready for a challenge, ready to be afraid, ready to fight. They had barely walked for two minutes when they reached the entrance to the forest itself. As it turned out, Malon had been absolutely right.

A wolf sat in the very center of the path.


	45. Music of Lost

**helloooo here is chapter 44!**

**wow things are happening WOW**

**thank you all for your suggestions and comments, rest assured that I read every comment and take all of your ideas into account when I write! **

**enjoy the cameos and easter eggs**

**weeeeeee**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Four

Music of Lost

Link didn't draw his sword. In fact, he didn't even move. He stood like a statue when he saw the wolf. Raazi stood just as still beside him. Anowaika gasped and took a step back, and Vukan crossed his arms. The wolf was sitting calmly, quietly, in the center of that path, like it had been sitting there for all eternity. Nothing to do, nowhere to go but there. It was a beautiful, magnificent creature that guarded the forest. At first glance, it looked like any wolf; ashen gray fur falling in tangles with a lighter stomach and nose. A thick, dark mane flared from its head and down its back, and from what Link could tell, there were white streaks along either side of the wolf's body. When it breathed out, its entire body rippled like a wave. And when Link looked closer, something seemed strange about this wolf. Perhaps it was the marking—not like anything natural he had ever seen—as clear as day on the wolf's forehead. Perhaps it was how quietly it sat. Perhaps it was those dangerous, heart-wrenching blue eyes. Perhaps it was the out-of-place blue earrings (similar to Link's, actually) in the torn ear of that wolf.

Perhaps it was the broken chain around its left front leg.

"Malon was right," Ano murmured. "There really is a wolf."

Link knew that the wolf was looking at him. Not at anyone or anything else. Straight at him. He knew that, by instinct, he should have drawn his sword, should have gotten into a fighting position and prepared himself for a battle. But he couldn't do it. He couldn't even move. He could only meet the gaze of that wolf and feel something very strange stirring within him. And, though he wasn't sure if anyone else could, he saw what looked like a golden light emanating from the wolf's body.

_It might be the light playing tricks on me. _

But when Link finally tore his eyes away to glance at Raazi, he knew that it wasn't the light. The look on her face, the soft smile on her lips, the expectant glint in her eyes, assured him that he wasn't going insane.

_Then again, Raazi might be even more insane anyway. _

"What are we gonna do?" Ano asked. She, unlike Link, had her spear out and at the ready. When she looked at the wolf, tightened her grip on her weapon, the wolf finally moved. It bared its teeth and crouched low to the ground. Its growl shook Link to his bone. He felt protective. Like this wolf was an old friend.

"Put your weapon down, Ano," he said softly.

"What? But you heard what Malon said! This wolf tries to kill anyone who comes near, and we have to go into Faron Woods."

"Put it down."

"But—"

"Trust me. Just put it down."

She blinked at him a few times but, after Vukan softly touched her shoulder, put her spear on the ground. As soon as it was out of her hands, the wolf went back to its position. Staring at Link from its post in the center of the path, blocking any entrance into Faron Woods that didn't require extreme lumberjacking.

"Now what?" Anowaika whispered. She was on edge, biting her lip and shifting her weight again and again and again. Link wasn't really sure how to answer. He couldn't focus, not when the wolf was looking at him like that and making him feel such odd, indiscernible emotions. And, like always, Raazi seemed to have the answer. Somehow. She put her hand on Link's shoulder and squeezed, ever so lightly.

"The wolf will not attack," she said.

"How do you know that?" Ano asked.

"It would've attacked already," Link answered.

"But...why? Why us? Why everybody but us?"

Link shrugged because he didn't have an answer. And if Raazi had one, she wasn't going to tell them. Not any time soon, at least.

"It is calling you to it, little wolf," she murmured.

_I get that feeling. A weird feeling. That feeling when someone very, very far away is calling your name, telling you to come closer. But you can't really see them and you don't even know who they are, so you have no way of knowing which direction to go in if you want to find that person. _

Link let himself go and just did what his body wanted. He took one step after another—left, right, left, right—ignoring Anowaika's screams to get back, to not be so stupid, to stay away from the killer wolf. He kept walking, and with each step, felt the intensity of the wolf's stare run more deeply beneath his skin. It still did not move, still did not look away, did not even bare its teeth or wag its tail. When he was close enough, Link crouched so that he was eye-level with the animal, which turned out to be deceivingly small from a distance. It was a huge wolf. Bigger than any normal wolf. Scars marked its face, its body, its white limbs. But it held itself like a king, tall and proud and more regal than Link had thought any animal could be.

_What are you?_

"Why do I feel like I know you?" he murmured. The wolf just stared at him. Not that he expected it to answer. When Link lifted his hand and brought it closer, Anowaika screamed more loudly. Vukan had to hold her back from running at them with her spear, while Raazi stood with her chin cupped in her fingers and her hip cocked. Watching diligently yet silently.

The wolf blinked when Link let his hand rest on top of its head. Traced with his thumb the outline of that strange marking in the wolf's fur—not any spiritual marking that Link had seen before. Its eyes pierced a hole right in his soul, yet made it impossible to look away. After a few moments like that, Link began to stroke the wolf's fur. It moved its head to flow with the movements of his hand, moving down its neck and then starting over. Its fur was not soft, not inviting, not clean. It was rough, mangled, littered with hidden scars and stories. Suddenly he felt a hand on his shoulder, and glanced up to find Raazi standing beside him. The wolf did not react to her being there.

"You have the same eyes," she said. Link and the wolf both blinked.

"I guess we do."

"What the _hell_ is going on here?" Anowaika cried.

Link stood up and the wolf followed suit, its grace uncanny and unexpected. He turned around to face Ano and Vukan.

"The wolf is our friend," he said. "He's going to lead us through the woods."

"_What?!" _she screamed. "H-how? W-why? I don't understand."

"Well, that makes at least two of us," Link sighed. He shoved his hands into his pockets and glanced back at the wolf. His own words seemed to be working of their own accord.

"How do you know that the wolf is gonna help us?"

"He recognizes Link," Raazi said. "He is guarding the Triforce, no? Well, it belongs to Link. The wolf will help us."

_At least I'm not the only one talking in riddles._

Anowaika took a deep breath, looked at Vukan for support, and then threw her arms into the air.

"Well, I have no idea what's going on, but I trust you, oh mighty leader. Let's follow Mr. Wolf into the forest."

"His name is Twilight." Link said the words before he could process them. The wolf blinked at him, as if in affirmation. Raazi winked at Link and then she, too, let her hand sit on the wolf's head. He welcomed her touch. Like the two of them had always been friends.

"Fitting, no?" she said. "Twilight."

_Twilight,_ Link thought. _I don't know who you are. I'm not really sure what's going on here, but...I know you. I can tell by the way you look at me, by this weird feeling, that I know you. _

Twilight turned and began his trek into the forest.

_ Lead the way, old friend._

The woods were dark. Very, very dark. Though Link didn't know what he'd been expecting. There were so many trees, their canopies melded together, that only few and slim rays of sunlight were able to slip through. The path on which they walked wasn't truly a path, for there were too many immense trunks for anybody to clear a walkway. They weaved their way around and between the trees, their feet crunching against the green, withering, fallen leaves on the forest floor. Link glanced up and saw a blanket lying above them, covering the entire forest in a dim, eerie green hue. Somewhere in the distance, he could hear the soft crackling of a stream as it, too, navigated its path through the woods. The wolf walked a few meters ahead of them, graceful and light with his steps while the chain on his leg rattled against the ground. He avoided the trees, walked along the impromptu path as if he himself had built this forest. As if he knew every branch, every turn.

Link had his hands in his pockets while he walked, Raazi beside him, just as calm as he'd ever seen her. Anowaika walked alongside Vukan, running her hands along the jagged bark of the trees. One second ago, she had looked frightened and incredulous, unwilling to follow a wolf known for its violence into a forest known for its ghosts. And now, she walked with that signature smile on her lips, a spring in her step, a new adventure in her sparkling eyes. Vukan walked, stared straight ahead, while slivers of the sunlight fell upon his features. Twilight didn't look back, not even once. He just continued walking, so Link and the others did the same.

"I can definitely see why people call it the Lost Woods," Ano mused. "Everywhere you turn, it all looks the same." Then her pictograph box was out, and she was documenting everything. Encouraging them to smile while she snapped their pictographs. Link wasn't surprised that, even among all four them, nobody was worried that their fate would be the same as those who'd come before. Perhaps they were all just too brave for their own goods. Too stupid.

_We'll get out of here alive. I'll make sure of it._

They walked for ages through that endless forest—Anowaika was right. Everything looked absolutely the same, no matter which way they turned. And that somehow meant nothing to the wolf. He could see something, feel something, hear something that they could not. Something that allowed him pure, unbothered passage through this forest and its mysteries.

_These are the Faron Woods we've heard so much about. Nicknamed the Lost Woods because anybody who comes in never comes out._

Link didn't believe the rumors that there was a monster dwelling in these woods, waiting for its prey to haplessly wander into its clutches. He wondered if maybe he should've been afraid. After all, the Ordonians were more frightened of these woods than anything. The mere mention of it made them grow pale and change the subject while they stumbled over their words. But Link was not one to get frightened easily, especially of something like the rumored woods. Especially when he had someone that he trusted (oddly enough) like Twilight leading them forward.

Suddenly, like someone had flicked a switch, they were in a wide clearing with a spring, where sunlight was free to roam as it would and the water was as clear as crystal. They all stopped in their tracks, not quite able to believe what they were seeing. Everything was still, untouched, raw in its connection with nature. The grass, unlike the trodden paths in the woods, was a vibrant green and pulsed out of the ground in gentle blades. Anowaika let out a laugh, and crouched to her knees to run her hands along the grass. Vukan crossed his arms and looked around him with a look of—dare he say it—tranquility. Link blinked a few times, took in every single detail with raised eyebrows and stiff bones. Beside him, Raazi chuckled.

Twilight walked to the edge of the spring, faced them, and sat down. He didn't wag his tail, his tongue never lolled from his powerful jaws. He merely sat and watched them watch everything.

"I bet nobody's even _seen_ this before," Anowaika breathed. Before anybody could stop her, she had stripped of her weapons and clothing and jumped in the spring, twirling in the air as she did. They watched as she leaped from the water, let herself dip back in, stayed under for minutes and minutes.

"It's beautiful down here," she called once she surfaced. "If only you could breathe well enough to see it."

"What is down there?" Raazi asked.

"It looks like ruins of an old city. Beautiful, ancient buildings and artifacts. An old Zora city or something. I'll take pictographs, don't worry. I got the waterproof one for a reason."

She descended back under the water and they understood that she wouldn't come up for a while. Vukan, certainly having seen enough, sat down and hunched over, picking at the grass with his gargantuan fingers. Link, his mind hazy like in a dream, walked to where Twilight sat. He removed his sheathed sword, boomerang, quiver and bow, vest, and boots, then sat down in front of him. So that he could properly look into his eyes, like mirrors. Link reached up and put both hands on the wolf's head, scratching just behind his ears. Twilight let out a growl that made his entire body rumble in pleasure.

"Why did you bring us here?" Link asked quietly. Twilight just blinked. Raazi sat down beside Link and put her hand to Twilight's neck, stroked down the white streaks of his body. She murmured something in Gerudic, breathing out and smiling. He had only seen her smile like that a few times. Rare occasions.

"What did you say?" he asked. He wanted to know.

"A magnificent creature," she translated. "He makes my mind fly."

"Makes your mind fly?"

"Perhaps it sounds strange directly translated from my language," she grinned. He grinned too, then dropped to his back and stared at the shadowy sky. This was perhaps the most beautiful place he had ever seen. Maybe, he thought in amusement, people didn't get lost. Maybe people just found their way to this place and decided not to leave. It was too beautiful.

As Link descended deep into his thoughts, he heard something in the distance. Something other than the crackle of the stream to which he'd become accustomed, something so eerily similar to the song Malon had been humming last night. Only it wasn't someone singing; it sounded like someone was playing an instrument, letting that beautiful and intriguing melody echo through the forest. Link sat up slowly and looked around, and then convinced himself that he could see that song bouncing off the trees and floating around in the sky. It was calling out to him, drawing him to some destination he couldn't see. Because when he tried to look in the direction of the song, he realized he couldn't. It was coming from all directions, seeping into every corner of his mind.

"Do you hear that, Raaz?" he murmured. She paused, her hand on Twilight's back, and sat completely still. Then she nodded silently and began looking around just as he had. Without a word, Link stood up and strained to hear in which direction the music was loudest. He might have been playing tricks on himself, but he decided it was coming from the left. He began walking that way, leaving his weapons where they were, taking each step cautiously and quietly. Raazi followed at his heels, just as silent. Vukan watched them, but did not get up. Not while Anowaika was still underwater. Twilight sat where he was, as well. Only Link and Raazi walked. In a hidden direction, back into the woods.

Link turned wherever he heard the music loudest. Where he saw it crash against the trees most tremulously. Raazi did not question him. She just walked. They were back in the density of the forest, where everything looked the same and there were not even animals to be seen. But Link was not deterred. The more steps he took, the louder the music got. He was absolutely convinced. It almost sounded like an ocarina. It encompassed the entire forest, every soul within it. Just when they had been walking for long and Link was beginning to lose hope, he and Raazi stumbled into another clearing. Much, much smaller, still dark and hidden beneath a canopy of trees. There were so many here that he couldn't even see the sky, and the sunlight was dimmed. In the center of the clearing was a large, ancient, mossy tree stump. He stopped so abruptly that Raazi nearly collided with him, her hands on his arm.

_No..._

This was where the music had been coming from. Of that Link was now certain.

Seated on that stump, legs swinging with the rhythm of the melody, was what looked like a young girl with green hair and pale skin and an ocarina at her mouth. She was playing the melody and her eyes were closed. Standing on the stump, just behind her, was another creature—dancing to the melody and playing a flute. Something that Link had never seen before (maybe he'd seen its pictograph in a book before) with clothes made of fur and twigs and leaves and a strange hat. He had the skin, the limbs, the laughter of a Hylian boy. But his face was completely black and shadowy, with orange eyes and orange lips and covered in the vague, discrete silhouette of a skull.

When he and Raazi entered into the clearing, the two creatures stopped playing the music, opened their eyes, and looked at them. The young girl had breathtakingly big, breathtakingly green eyes that had mysticism and so much of the past swimming within them.

"Oh, you're here," she said sweetly. "Do you know how long we've been waiting?"

"Years! Years, years, years," the other creature said with a chilling laugh. "YEARS."

"Welcome to the Lost Woods," the girl smiled. "Won't you come closer?"

The boy behind her cackled loudly, began dancing in circles, and resumed his flute playing.


	46. Too-Old Civilization

**yay chapters yay loz mmm**

**some of you have been asking about zelink stuff and I just want to let you know that the majority of this story is NOT romance...that being said, as you noticed from the prologue and the kisses and zelda's history and whatnot, there IS Zelink IN the story, but it is NOT a STRICTLY zelink story. there is also a lot of romance even though it's more an action/adventure thingy but tbh i feel like zelink is kind of overdone and like unless you do something really unique and interesting with it mehhh because the best ships are always the unlikely ones that are tragic and kind of a challenge and usually zelink just isn't. (**

**so, in conclusion, there is zelink but considering she's evil and he's an amnesiac it might not be as you expect it**

**rant over**

**review kthx**

**tenniswriter out**

¯\\_(ツ)_/¯

* * *

Chapter Forty-Five

Too-Old Civilization

Link had no idea how to react. He had never seen anything like this—nobody who looked remotely like either of the two creatures before him. One resembling a young girl, one vaguely resembling a young boy. She sitting with a welcoming smile and her hands clasped in her lap, he dancing and playing the melody on his flute behind her. Link and Raazi stood still, staring at them with wide eyes and tense muscles and a daunting curiosity.

"Don't be afraid," she said. "Even if we wanted to hurt you, we're not strong enough for that."

_What the...?_

_ Am I dreaming?_

Link took a deep breath and narrowed his eyes at the two of them, but wasn't sure if moving closer, as the girl had asked, was the best idea. Before he could make the decision, she finally took it upon herself to hop down from her perch on that tree stump and move toward him. She was unbelievably short, and wore a simple green dress. When she got closer, Link noticed a headband in her hair. He and Raazi still didn't move. Once she was close enough, the girl curtsied and outstretched her hand.

"My name is Saria. It's nice to finally meet you," she said. Link glanced at Raazi with a raised eyebrow, but the Gerudo simply shrugged and gave her mysterious smile. Link, not really seeing any other options and not particularly deterred from this one, shook Saria's hand. It was so small compared to his. He could have crushed it between his fingers.

"Saria, Saria, Sari-YA!" the boy screamed. He was running in circles, waving his flute in the air and cackling.

"Shh, be good," she called. She looked back at Link with the look of an amused, hard-working mother. Her mannerisms gave him the sense that, though she looked young, her appearance betrayed the maturity of her mind. "That's Skull Kid. He's just excited, that's all."

_Skull Kid..._

_ Maybe I've read that in a book before?_

"What was that melody you were playing?" Link asked.

"Oh, you mean on the ocarina?" Saria looked up at the canopy of trees and swayed back and forth. "Just a melody the forest taught us. Long ago."

"Saria's Song, Sari-YA!" cried Skull Kid.

"You never introduced yourselves," Saria interrupted.

"Link."

"Scheherazade. But you may call me Raazi."

"Wow, what a pretty name. I wish I could pronounce the whole thing. What does it mean?"

"Teller of stories. In Gerudic."

"How lovely," Saria sighed. "Saria just means flower. A bit boring, if you ask me."

"In what language?"

"Kokiri."

Link and Raazi looked at each other. He had never heard of such language. And, apparently, neither had she. Which actually surprised him.

_Shad would know, I bet._

Then, drawing them from their surreal world (for it _was_ surreal) and slicing through Skull Kid's erratic flute playing, a scream rang out through the forest. It flung outward for a moment, then faded in echoes that bounced along the trees. It sounded like Anowaika.

Without another word, without giving an explanation to Saria or Skull Kid, Link turned and ran out of the clearing. Somehow, as he ran, trying futilely to find his way back to the pond, the forest seemed...brighter. Brighter but dimmer. More magical, but more evil, too. He could hear laughter behind him, spreading out, encasing him. He saw fading lights floating, like little creatures, wafting among the trees. He saw the rays of sunlight managing to sneak past the tree canopies and shine upon patches of dirt as he ran. It wasn't something anyone could capture with words, or even with a pictograph. Even while he ran, his heart thumping and Anowaika's scream in his ears, Link etched this image into his brain. He didn't want to forget the way the trees looked.

Somehow, he stumbled back out to the pond, where he and Raazi had (so _stupidly_) left Vukan and Anowaika. Worry struck his core. He had promised himself he wouldn't let anybody but himself get hurt.

"Ano!" he screamed, trying to catch his breath. Everything was just as he'd left it. Twilight was lying down now, his head resting comfortably on his paws on the bank of the pond. Beside him was a pile of Link's weapons and boots. It was only then that Link remembered he was barefoot. It wasn't very painful. Everything seemed so quiet, but he knew something had happened. Vukan was nowhere to be seen, either. "Anowaika!" he screamed again. Then Raazi emerged behind him, panting.

"Where is she?" she asked. Link didn't answer. His narrowed eyes scanned the entire clearing. And then, he saw them on the other side of the pond. Anowaika was crouched down at the bank, and Vukan towered behind her, his arms crossed. They were looking at something, but it was so far away Link couldn't tell what it was. He cupped his hands around his lips and screamed her name again.

Finally, she heard. He saw her head come up, but he couldn't see the expression on her face. Link reassured himself with the fact that Vukan would have never let anything happen to Anowaika. With him around, she wouldn't get a single scratch. While he and Raazi caught their breath, Anowaika picked something up and trotted toward them, Vukan dragging himself behind her.

"Oh, my gosh, I'm so glad you're here!" she cried.

"What the hell was that, Ano?" Link breathed.

"What do you mean? _You_ were the one who ran off, goof." When she halted before them, she was holding something in her arms that Link had never seen before. Not even in books.

_What _is _this place?_

She was holding a small creature that reminded him a little bit of a potato. It had two perfectly round, delicate eyes and a beak-like mouth, tiny little arms and tiny little feet compared to its giant potato body, a fuzzy brown tail to match its fuzzy brown back. And sticking out from its head was what looked like the stem of a flower.

"What...what is it?" he murmured, speaking more to himself.

And then the little animal spoke, nearly sending Link to his butt in surprise.

"MACHI!" it shrieked. "Kweeeeeeeee?"

"Isn't he _precious_?" Anowaika squealed, hugging him more tightly. Link, with his furrowed brow and pursed lips, glanced up at Vukan. He just shrugged his rocky shoulders. Raazi mumbled something in Gerudic, but she was laughing.

"Hello," she said. The animal waved his two hands and said, "Kweeee!"

"This is what you were screaming about?" Link said. "Really?"

"Oh, look, Skull Kid! They've found a Kikwi already." As if through teleportation, Saria and the Skull Kid appeared beside them, instruments in hand. Anowaika jumped back with a yelp, holding onto her new friend.

"Crazy Kikwi, crazy Kikwi, cray-ZAY," Skull Kid cackled.

"We've found a what?" Link asked.

"Who are you?" interrupted Ano. And then everyone was talking at once, asking questions, begging for answers, trying to give them, all with undertones of frightening cackles and exclamations of "KWEE!" Quietly, Twilight stood up and walked over, and Link could have sworn he saw a smirk on his face.

"Shh, let us all be calm," Raazi finally said. Everyone was silent.

"I bet you're confused," Saria laughed. "Twilight. There you are. Wow, you really did a good job." The little girl with the green hair crouched down and stroked the wolf's head. He moved his head into her touch, and Link was more confused then ever.

"You...how do you...?" he began. And then just, "Where are we?"

"The Lost Woods," Saria answered, standing back up. "Well, I guess you call them Faron Woods, huh?"

"Lost Woo-OODS!"

"Kwee?"

"Twilight went to find you," Saria continued. "He said he might be a while, but I never thought he'd be out there for two months! Well, I guess it's fine. He brought you here, just like he said he would."

"But where _is_ here?" Anowaika said. She was grasping her little animal friend for dear life. "And how do you know who we are?"

"The Lost Woods. But you're in the very center," she smiled. "Nobody can get here alone. I know who you are because you managed to get here."

"But...but you're here."

"Exactly."

"I don't understand," Anowaika said. "We don't know where we are, we don't know who _you_ are, I've never...I've never seen anything like this."

"Shh, I'll tell you a story." Saria sat down on the grass. She looked up with her big eyes, at each person, until they sat down, too. They were in a circle, with the animal in Ano's arms and Skull Kid dancing like a maniac in the middle. Twilight lay his head in Saria's lap. "Everybody close your eyes."

They obeyed. Though Link couldn't relax. His muscles were tense. He wasn't sure how he'd let himself be lured to this point, as if in the middle of a dream.

"Long ago, beautiful forest creatures made their home in these woods. Little children with green hair who never grew up, people made of wood and leaves, boys who liked to cause mischief, furry little animals with their beautiful language, monkeys with flowers in their fur. They lived in the forest together, in their own magical kingdom, with fairies and trees. They thrived with this magic. But after a long time, the outsiders became fraught with jealousy and greed. They wanted the magic of the forest to themselves, wanted the strange powers of these lovely creatures. They came into the forest and tried to steal it. But the forest would not allow it—it put a curse on any outsider, and hid its forest creatures from them. Now outsiders are doomed to wander these woods forever, unable to see or hear or feel the magic for which they so long. But, with such a curse on the forest, the ancient forest civilizations have all but disappeared. They still exist, but do not thrive as they once did."

She began to play that song on the ocarina again, and Skull Kid cried, "Saria's Song! Sari-YA!" They all opened their eyes. Link's mind was hazy, filled with her mysterious words and the haunting melody she played for them. They all looked around at each other, utterly confused. Twilight was staring at Link.

"Quite a story," Anowaika said quietly. The animal was sitting, smiling—or at least, Link thought it was a smile—in her lap.

"But it is no story," Raazi said. "You are of a race lost to the curse of this forest."

"It's not a curse for us," Saria smiled. "It's a blessing."

Saria was a Kokiri, she explained. One of the green-haired children of the trees who never aged—who once had with them fairy companions that were forced to abandon them long ago. She told them that she'd been alive for centuries, and never once had she looked different. Skull Kid, she said, was the last of his race. Little boys who lived for mischief and hated grownups and thrived off the music of the forest. He spun around, jumped along the grass, laughed and laughed and laughed. That laugh sounded sad now. Link watched the Skull Kid and imagined him hopping through the forest with others, but now suddenly left alone, to play his melancholy song and laugh that haunting laugh.

Then Saria pointed to Machi. The little animal who, apparently, was a Kikwi. There were still hundreds of them living in the forest, but they enjoyed scurrying about at the tops of the trees. For they loved the sunlight.

"What about the people made of wood?" Anowaika said. "You said there are people made of wood."

Deku Scrubs, Saria clarified. But they lived underground and only came out when they had to. She admitted that even she would be lucky to see one, though they visited the Kokiri every once in a while. They asked her where the other Kokiri were. She said they were probably watching from behind the trees. But they'd gotten very good at blending into the forest.

"This isn't real. This can't be real," Anowaika said. "You're telling us that this wolf led us to a world of supposedly extinct forest people?"

_Well, she hit the nail on the head._

"Welcome to the Lost Woods, Anowaika," Saria said. "I hope I'm pronouncing that correctly."

Without another word, Anowaika smiled her breathtaking smile and pulled out her pictograph box.

Raazi didn't bother explaining to them about the Triforce; everyone was well-aware of the task at hand without the unnecessary explanations. They gathered their belongings while Saria and Skull Kid played their music, and Machi decided that he wanted to stay with Anowaika. When she tried to put him down, he screamed. And then he smirked when she picked him back, and Link saw a flash of, dare-he-say, jealousy cross Vukan's features. Saria and Skull Kid led them out of the clearing and back into the forest, and Twilight took it upon himself to walk beside Link. His chain brushed Link's leg.

Somehow, Link could see the forest better now. When he glanced around him, he could see little silhouettes, bashfully smiling faces, hiding behind the wispy trunks. When he glanced up, he could see the branches rustling beneath tiny feet and potato bodies. And, even though Saria told them Deku Scrubs barely came out, he could've sworn he saw a few pairs of eyes peeking up from beneath the leaves on the ground around his feet. Now that his eyes were open, the forest was a completely different place. It was the home of lost civilizations and ruined cultures, of faded languages hanging on tongues sliced by greed.

"Deku Scrubs are kind of mean," Saria whispered to him. Like she was reading his mind. She was looking at him in a strange way. As if, in some other life, she had known him, and was finally meeting him again in unfortunate circumstances. He smiled at her, and she smiled back a wonderfully genuine smile. There weren't very many of those where he was from.

Nobody asked where they were going, because something about the atmosphere of the forest calmed them. They trusted in themselves, in the path they walked, in their friends straight from the past. Link glanced at his gloved hand and realized that it was aching a little bit. He hated that. It meant that they were close and that, maybe, Raazi had been right about this whole thing.

_I don't believe in those stupid goddesses. I _don't_. Do you hear me up there? I don't believe in you._

"I know what you need," Saria said as they walked. "But it might be kind of hard to get."

"Why?" Raazi asked.

"Because the monkeys have it."

"Monkeys?" Anowaika laughed.

"Yes. The monkeys have what you're looking for."

"How do we get it from monkeys?" Raazi insisted. Saria shrugged and put her hands behind her back, walking a lot like the way Malon walked.

"They're kind of greedy and stupid. But if you do something nice for them, I'm sure they'll give it you."

Suddenly they were in another clearing, almost as large as the first they'd come across. At the back was what looked like a giant entrance, but the building to which it had once been a gate was so broken down that it hardly looked like a building anymore. There were multiple giant columns, but there was no ceiling, leaving skeletal, uneven walls that reached up pointlessly to the sky. There was a staircase within, hugging the falling walls, spiraling up and up to nothing while vines clung to the bricks and fell in lonely tendrils. It was an eerie place.

"It's beautiful, right?" Saria mused. "It used to be the Forest Temple, where we came and worshipped. I...I used to live there. It's just ruins now. The monkeys have made it their home."

As she said those words, Link saw the monkeys. Some were in the trees, some were climbing on and around the ruins, some were standing in the very center of the clearing. Two had flowers in their fur. Just like Saria had described in her story. He glanced down at Twilight, who glanced back up.

"Hi, friends," Saria called. All at once the monkeys lifted their heads and began running around, screaming and jumping and making Link dizzy. Skull Kid laughed and followed them, trying to catch their tails. "We have visitors."

One of the monkeys hopped up to her, looked at Link with narrowed eyes, and then spit at his feet before turning around and hopping off.

"Not very friendly, are they," Link smiled.

"No."

"They sure are cute," Anowaika gushed.

"Kwee!"

"No, you're still the cutest, Machi."

Link stuck his hands in his pockets. He was amused now. He walked forward, toward the ruins of the Forest Temple. It reminded him a little bit of Snowhead Sanctuary, and as he walked beneath the grand, fallen entrance, he realized that there was something about the ancient world that drew him in. Just the look of the past made his heart thump in entrancement. He could vaguely hear Anowaika tell him to come back, could hear Raazi asking him where he was going. He walked inside, into the shadows of this place of old. He stared up and imagined himself in the temple when it had been at the peak of its glory, without the monkeys feeding on its ruins. He smiled and began walking up the stairs. He trusted in their sturdiness. Even though the rest of the building had fallen, they were still here, representing something so much bigger.

All of a sudden, the monkeys all froze. They looked around anxiously, then ran off to the side and gripped each other's hands. Link stopped where he was in the middle of the stairs and raised an eyebrow. They were so strange and unpredictable.

"Oh no," Saria murmured.

"Oh no?" Ano repeated. From where she stood on the other side, Saria looked up at Link and cupped her hands around her mouth so he could hear.

"I forgot to tell you one thing about the monkeys."

The ground began to rumble, and when Link looked at the center of the clearing, he saw roots beginning to claw their way from the dirt. As if straight from hell. The monkeys began to scream, and Skull Kid sang, "Coming from the ground, clawing from the earth, yay, yay, monkey for dinner! Monkey for dinner! Din-NER! Mon-KEY!"

A giant creature exploded from the ground. A massive, mutant Deku Baba with sharp teeth and long stems and five heads.

_Oh no..._

"I forgot to tell you that the temple has a bit of a parasite problem."


	47. Winner Takes All

**fillers, you say? **

**what are those? **

**ENJOY i'll update soon since this un's short**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Six

Winner Takes All

"I really, really don't think you should do this."

"Yeah, I know."

"Please, please, _please_ don't go through with it. Sturgeon always said, to fight is for the weak who desire strength, but shall never achieve it."

"Look, you're not going to talk me out of it. Might as well come and enjoy, don't you think?"

"Is fairy lady going to do something dangerous?"

Damita was closing up shop, making sure the forge was properly turned off and her weapons were exactly where she needed them to be. Tingle sat with his maps in the middle of the floor (when was the last time he'd showered?) and Shad was sitting in a chair counting money and comparing with reports. That, at least, was one thing he could do better than her. Not that she wasn't smart. No, Damita was smart. But Shad was Shad, and there was no arguing with that. They were waiting for someone to arrive, while he counted with his fidgety fingers and copper ringlets, and she organized her weapons. Her adrenaline was already pumping, and the sun had only just set. She thought for a moment about what Link and the others were doing; but then, she realized rather blissfully that she was too preoccupied to think about it.

_Perfect, perfect, perfect!_

"You're going to get hurt, and then Link will never let me hear the end of it," he grumbled. Damita ran a hand through her uneven silver locks and let out the most indignant scoff she could manage.

"Yeah, well I couldn't care less about what that asshole says," she lied. "He's the one who left. And anyway, nobody can tell me what to do. Even if he were standing right there, I'd still be doing it."

"Fairy lady is going to get hurt..."

"Shut up, Tingle."

"You always were stubborn," Shad sighed. Damita hopped over the counter and strolled over to him. While he stared down at his notebook and rupees, she put her lips to his forehead and tugged on his ear a little bit.

"Don't worry about little old me, Shadsie," she said softly. He was one to worry, after all. There was nothing he could say to convince her to stop, but there was also nothing she could say to calm his nerves. They had a mutual agreement of uselessness.

With perfect timing, the door to the armory opened, and in strode their Keaton-masked companion. Kafei took off his mask to give her a kiss. Then, as she should have expected, he pulled one of his weird tricks and took a mask from behind her ear. It was of a man with a very bushy mustache.

"What kind of mask is that?" she said.

"It's a carpenter's mask," Kafei responded, putting his Keaton mask back on. "I figured it might help you fit in more. You know, where we're going."

"Have you seen me? I don't need help intimidating people."

"You've got me there, hot stuff." And just like that, the carpenter's mask was gone. "Well, ready to go?"

"I am. Shadsie? Tingle?"

"Tingle is ready!"

"Oh. Is Mr. Fancy Pants joining us on our date?" Kafei chuckled.

"Hey, jerk, be nice."

Shad glanced up at them, with red cheeks and a pout, and his hair was falling out of place. She could tell by the way he was breathing and the fact that his sleeves were rolled up that he was not in a comfortable position.

_Wish I could help you, but that would mean wimping out._

"Come, Shad," she said quietly. "Please? I want you to see me."

"Well I do not want to see you get _hurt_, my dear," he replied, "and unfortunately, the probability is high that that is what we shall witness."

"Don't underestimate me," she winked. "Please come?"

After a long silence, Shad swallowed and stood up, slipped on his expensive jacket with the silver buttons, and tucked his notebook under his arm. Damita threw her arms around his neck in gratitude, grabbed both of their arms, and led them from the armory while Tingle trailed behind. Probably not comprehending what was happening. She wanted to get to Ikana as soon as possible. She wanted to get to that boxing ring as soon as possible.

She wanted to knock someone out as soon as possible.

* * *

"And, he's out! The winner of the match is the almighty Hammer Fists."

The crowd erupted as the huge, sweaty man in the center of the ring lifted his fists (they did remind Damita a bit of hammers) and screamed like a savage. Damita was sitting in between Shad and Kafei, her arms in the air and her voice rising above the rest. She had to admit, she wouldn't have been able to find this place had Kafei not shown it to her. With her own rather successful and clean business, Damita tended to avoid Ikana as much as possible for fear of getting mixed up with the wrong people—which was ironic considering her best friends were mercenaries. The ring was close to Kafei's store, and hidden in a very clever manner. There was a man who sold armor in a tiny, dark store; but in the back of the store was a staircase. If you said the right things, showed him the right things, he would take patrons to the staircase and lead them down. And then, there it was. A giant boxing ring surrounded by rusty benches dimly lit by cheap lanterns, sweaty gangsters and thugs and thieves waiting to see people get beat up.

"I love this," she whispered into Kafei's ear.

"I knew you would."

She glanced over at Shad and, predictably, he was not enjoying himself. He was sitting (in the midst of a standing crowd) with his notebook hugged to his chest and his glasses foggy and still with that perpetual pout. She squeezed his shoulder, but he didn't respond. Not that she was expecting him to.

"Now, we'll call for the next challenger! Who dares fight the champion?" called the announcer.

She could feel both Kafei and Shad tense up beside her as she raised her arms.

"I challenge him!" she screamed. Tingle squealed behind her and murmured, "Fairy lady is going to die, that big man is going to kill my pretty fairy lady."

She wasn't sure if anybody had heard her, but she wasn't going to take no for an answer. And she knew people would notice her. She might have been the only woman there. With a wink in Shad and Kafei's direction, she forced her way through the crowd down to the ring, while she heard the screams of other (more manly) challengers. Her heart was racing and she could feel her senses cramping up from the excitement when she ran up to the announcer. A tiny little man wearing a pinstripe suit. He had a weird mustache, too. He was ignoring her, trying to pick a challenger from among the other men who had gathered around him. But Damita was ready. She pushed past them and jumped up onto the outside of the ring, so the announcer had to look at her.

"Oh, what can I do for you, little lady? Come to cheer on your man?" he said, leaning over the rails of the ring. He raised his eyebrows at her, but she just shook her head.

"No. I want to challenge Hammer Fists."

"You...you what?"

"C'mon, let me fight him," she smirked. She leaned forward a little more and watched as the announcer's face became the color of a tomato. "I promise I can beat him."

"Hey, a girl can't fight!"

"You can't let her into the ring!"

"It's my turn anyhow!"

"N-now, listen here, little lady—"

"I won't take no for an answer," she interrupted. She glanced past him at the reigning champion, standing with bared teeth, waiting for his next victim. He was even bigger up close, towering at least 6-foot-5. And he must not have been very good at shaving, because his facial hair was very patchy, and he was sweating like a pig, shirtless and greasy.

"I bet Hammer Fists over there is all right with it," she said, "right, Hammer Fists?"

He didn't respond. He just looked her straight in the eyes and crushed his fists together. The announcer was blubbering now, completely uncertain how to respond.

"We-we've never done this before, I don't think I can—"

"Let her fight." Damita glanced over her shoulder and saw Kafei standing there, with his smug look and the Keaton mask in his hands.

"Kafei, what are you—?"

"I'll be your unofficial trainer," he winked. Then he turned to the crowd. "_Now who wants to see the best fight of your life?" _

He pointed to Damita. She wasn't expecting the response. The crowd roared, pumped their fists into the air. Until the announcer had no choice but to let Damita into the ring and make many other burly men rather angry. But she didn't care. She didn't care one bit.

_Finally. I can show you what I've got._

The announcer stood in the center of the ring, getting the crowd riled up, while Damita stretched out her legs, bounced around, rolled up her shirt. Kafei stood beneath her, his elbows resting on the mat of the ring.

"Damita?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that if Hammer whatever over there lands a hit on you...you'll die."

"Yeah, I'm not an idiot."

"Okay, just making sure."

"Trust me," she murmured. Then she tied her hair up and cracked her knuckles. She met Hammer Fists' gaze and winked at him. "Just trust me."

The announcer asked her for her name so he could properly announce the fight. She didn't want to give him her real name, and she wanted to make sure she had a title that stuck.

"And now, challenging the reigning champ, we have...the Silver-Haired Assassin!" The announcer tipped his fedora and jumped out of the ring. Then he said, "Fight!"

There were no rules. It was a winner-takes-all fight. Damita put her fists up to protect her face and began bouncing around, getting used to the feel of the mat beneath her bare feet. Hammer Fists didn't bounce at all. He didn't lift up his fists to protect anything. He didn't need to. He took one step and the entire ring shook.

_The bigger they are, the harder they fall._

Like the brute that he was, the giant man let out a scream and leaped forward, his arms outstretched to grab her. Damita ducked and jumped nimbly to the right, and before he could realize that she was there, she shoveled her right uppercut into his side. Not that it did much. But she didn't expect it to. The goal wasn't to hurt him...yet.

_I have to get him off-guard. Distract him. Destroy his focus._

He stumbled back in surprise, and in a rage, swung his arms at her. She ducked again.

_This is almost too easy._

While she was ducking, she threw a flurry of punches into his rock hard abs, then leaped back out of his firing range. She could hear the crowd screaming, and it made her blood flow. It made her sweat run faster, made her fists clench harder.

"You," he seethed.

"Bring it!" she cried.

This time, he threw a punch. She slipped to avoid it. He threw another one. She slipped to avoid that one, as well. And then, as she had practiced so many times on her punching back, she swung her leg around against his thigh—because she had noticed from the very beginning that his lower body was significantly weaker than his upper body. The force of the kick on his leg made him cry out and crinkle a little bit, to the point that he was almost on his knees.

"What kind of champion are you, huh?"

_Now's my chance._

Damita jumped up into the air while he was distracted and brought her elbow down on his collarbone, a part that no amount of muscle could really protect. He cried out again, and was sent to his knees.

_Say goodbye to your championship, honey._

She twirled in place and, using that momentum, brought her foot around again. Except this time, she brought it to the side of his head, right at his ear. He fell to his side without a sound, the announcer declared him knocked-out, and the Silver-Haired Assassin became the new reigning champion. As he raised her arm, she saw Kafei's look of complete awe, could hear Tingle's nonsensical cries, and wasn't really sure what kind of expression Shad had. It couldn't have been anything other than shock. In fact, the entire crowd was completely silent—they had been expecting a slaughter. But to see this young, ambitious girl win was a thrill unlike any they'd ever seen. And after their shock wore off, they screamed so loudly she thought her eardrums were going to burst.

_Great,_ she thought victoriously. _Who's next?_


	48. Begs the Eye

**i'm alive i swear**

**another short one with lots of character development wee**

**okay so i realized that i'm not really sure what you guys are looking for or how often you're reading, so i figured i would just ask. **

**how often would you like me to update? every few days? once a week? i wanna make sure nobody's getting behind but also that nobody is waiting too long. let me know with a review/message.**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Seven

Begs the Eye

_Does Impa think I'm the Shadow Guardian?_

_ Is that why Zelda knew she would do what I asked?_

_ Does Sahasrahla know, too?_

_ Hell, does Zelda know?_

_ What do I even do about that now, huh?_

_ Impa says I can't find the Triforce, but...is she lying?_

_ I have to find it, don't I?_

_ But maybe...maybe I should trust Impa?_

_ Then again, how do I trust someone I don't understand?_

_ Though she seems to trust me, and I can't imagine that anyone understands me._

Sheik was alone in the room, lying on his back in the center of the floor. He was staring up at the ceiling through the lens, though he could see nothing. Only its wooden tiers tinted purple. He realized that he was going to have to make a decision, and it was not the type of decision he was in a place to make. The reason he had left the castle in the first place was for one thing, and one thing only: the Triforce. And now, the person who was supposed to be helping him was telling him that he couldn't. Telling him that he had to be doing something completely different.

_I don't know why she trusts me._

Impa was putting all her faith in him at this point. He was in Castilia, after all. It would have been so easy for him to go back to the castle, to tell Zelda what was happening, to watch as Impa's head was sliced from her shoulders. Or worse. Because Impa had told him to abandon his quest for the Triforce—not in exactly those words, but it was between the lines of her story.

_Shadow Guardian._

Sheik hoped, prayed, that Impa and Sahasrahla were right. That one day soon, he would open his eyes and everything would be perfectly clear to him. He would understand his purpose, know his direction, walk a path that felt like his footprints had already been there. Because now, when he closed his eyes and tried to picture that path, he saw only darkness. And in that darkness he saw his inner souls—the innocent child and the black demon. Both battling each other. And above it all...always above everything...were Zelda's cold, gray eyes. Watching. Taunting. Sheik wondered what he would see if he looked at Zelda through his lens.

Out of the blue, as he found himself sinking into the depths of despair and confusion, he remembered Karis. Sheik curled onto his side and hugged himself as he remembered Karis's flowery scent, his blue hair and violet eyes, his soft lips and delicate skin. As Karis's words wafted through his ears, words of affirmation and confidence and hope and beauty. He wanted to know what Karis was doing. He wanted to leave the stuffy temple once and for all, finish his quest with or without Impa, see Karis and kiss his forehead again.

_What's stopping me?_

He squeezed his eyes shut, and heard the door of the room open. He hadn't noticed how late it had become. Taralisse and Tempest were entering, still without Rauru and Impa. He opened his eyes to see them standing over him, Tara with a quizzical look and Tempest with a confused one. He sat up and glared at them through his lens.

"Having fun?" she asked. Sheik smiled and nodded.

"You bet."

"How are you doing? Do you need anything?" Tempest asked. Sheik shook his head, and tossed the lens over his shoulder onto the bed. He stood up and stretched his arms.

"I think I'm going to leave now," he said, rather matter-of-factly. He had only just made the decision himself, after all.

"You're what?" Tara asked.

"I'm going to leave. I have something very important to do."

"Yeah, and that something is to wait."

"No, I don't think so. Thanks for everything. Tell Rauru I said thanks, too, but I'm leaving now."

Tara and Tempest looked at each other. She put her hands on her hips and stared at him as if he were a child throwing a temper tantrum, and she was just watching him dig his own grave deeper and deeper. Sheik didn't care. He wasn't really paying attention anymore. He didn't want to make hard decisions. He was done with that, he'd had enough.

_I'm just gonna take the easy way out, okay?_

"Where are you gonna go?" she asked. And when Sheik didn't answer, Tempest repeated her question. But something about his demeanor had changed. His smile, small and childish, had disappeared to make room for a smirk. Cruel and demeaning, while a shadow fell across his once bright face. As if he had changed into a completely different person, right then and there in front of Sheik's eyes.

"You think you'll survive out there on your own?" he asked. Sheik, taken aback, narrowed his eyes.

"I have no idea what you're talking about," he said. Tempest's smile grew broader, and his voice grew lower and more menacing.

"You think you can find the Triforce, don't you?"

"I don't think I can. I _have_ to."

"Such an interesting personality." He turned and sat down on the bed, his hair flashing like fire. "You're so naïve."

"_Naïve?"_

"He's right, you know," Tara chimed in. "Do you know what'll happen if you go looking for the Triforce on your own?" He was quiet, watching her. She smiled, too. A smug smile. "It'll rip you apart from the inside out. You know why? Because it's not _yours_ to take."

"It's not mine. I know. It's Zelda's."

"Do you _honestly_ believe that?" she whispered. She took a step closer, so that he could feel her ethereal breath and see the shimmers in her violet hair. "Do you honestly believe that the Triforce of Courage belongs to Zelda, Sheik?"

He was taken aback by her tone, by her abrasiveness, by the way his heart shrank at the question. He couldn't even open his mouth to answer. She chuckled and grabbed a few strands of his yellow hair, flowing long and unkempt and untied from beneath the bandage around his head.

"Your hair is really pretty," she said. He didn't like the way her fingers felt in his hair. "You should take a bath soon. I think it'll do you good."

"I can get it running," Tempest said. Sheik shook his head, but couldn't move.

"No, no. Don't. I'm leaving."

"You never answered my question," Tara said. "Do you really believe that the Triforce of Courage belongs to Zelda?"

"I don't know. But I know she has the Triforce of Wisdom _and_ the Triforce of Power. It's only a matter of time. If she got the Triforce of Power, then..."

She chuckled again and looked more closely at his hair, as if there were something so interesting about it drawing her in. Sheik still didn't like it.

"She got the Triforce of Power because the one holding it was weak and willing to give it," Tempest said. "The only way she can get it is if she takes it straight from he who wields it."

Sheik paused.

"You mean she can only get it if she kills Link."

"Wrong," Tara sighed. "She can only get it if she kills Link _while_ he has the Triforce."

"Wait, how do you even know who he is?"

"Are you really questioning the knowledge of sages, Sheik?"

"Right. Never mind."

"If you try to take it yourself, you will die," Tara said. "A terrible death, too."

"How do I know you're telling the truth?"

"They are telling the truth, child." The door opened and Rauru and Impa walked in, he shuffling in his old age while she walked briskly beside him. He opened his arms, as if welcoming somebody. Tempest stood up and resumed his childish demeanor, making Sheik wonder if there were actually two people inside him.

"Rauru. Perfect timing." Tara let go of Sheik's hair and began playing with her own. "Tempest and I were trying to explain to him what'll happen if he just leaves to find the Triforce."

"Terrible things, yes," Rauru nodded. His mustache moved with his kind smile. "The Triforce is like a human being. It evolves and grows with each passing moment. And it has been waiting so long for its rightful owner that it will relinquish itself to nobody else. Not even the queen."

Sheik looked at Impa.

"Why didn't you tell me that from the start?" he hissed. "Why am I even _here?_"

She didn't bother answering, and he didn't expect her to. Instead, she asked another question.

"Sheik. Do you want to bring Zelda the Triforce you promised her?"

"Of course I do. I have to."

"Then there is only one thing you can do. You must train, wait for Link to find the Triforce. Once he has found it, you must take him to Zelda. Do you understand?"

"Train for what?"

Silence.

_Of course._

"Impa. Why are you helping me find the Triforce? You know that I'm going to give it to Zelda."

"It shall be given to Zelda if the goddesses will it. I am not doing this to help you, nor am I doing this to help Zelda. I have already told you. I am doing this because the time has come."

Sheik picked up the lens from the bed and peered at Impa through it. Again, he saw the broken shadow of her, shattered and bloody from the suffering, trying so hard to fit all the pieces back together. For the first time, he could hear that she was lying.

_You are doing this to help me._

_ Fine. If you're trusting me, I'll trust you. _

_ That's what Karis would say, anyway._

"All right. I'll do what you want. I'll train. I'll sit and wait for the day that I have my crazy epiphany. Only if you'll help me get Link once he has the Triforce."

Impa smiled ever so slightly and bowed her head.

"You have my word, Shadow Child."

It was only then that it occurred to Sheik that the sages were listening to every word, and saying absolutely nothing. None of them tried to convince him otherwise, to convince him that getting Zelda the Triforce was, in fact, a bad idea. They looked on in silence, and that gave Sheik a strange feeling. It made his heart pump in a weird way, made his stomach turn.

_I guess if they're into the idea, I'm into it, too._

"Wherever you choose to take me, Leader Impa, I shall follow," he said sarcastically. He bowed at the waist, letting his hair drift down like a golden waterfall. As those words left his mouth, dripping with bitterness, he still couldn't hide the truth there. Because he was thinking again of what Sahasrahla told him. Thinking of his pleas.

"_Trust Impa. Give Impa time. Let yourself open up to her, and she will open up to you. Guide you." _

_ She is what I should have been, after all._

**"May the eye look kindly upon our journey,"** Impa said. Sheik looked up into her eyes and nodded.

**"May the eye look kindly upon our journey." **

He threw the lens into the air and caught it. Taralisse snickered behind him.


	49. Monkey Shard

**hi friends! i'm back from the real world (which sucks by the way). **

**the story is almost done!**

**and i'm not even close to being finished with the second book!**

**yay!**

**just a reminder of where this part left off because it's been a while and tbh when I was editing this chapter I didn't even remember what was going on**

**so link and friends have met with a giant mutant deku baba in the middle of the Lost Woods in the midst of their journey to find the Triforce, which is supposedly in the hands of the monkeys**

**saria is there too**

**also link is being a tiny child and climbing ruins and sh*t**

**I tried to make this fight scene as close to how it might be in the games as possible, and as such it is rather unrealistic. But I don't know, I think it's kind of a fun fight...? **

**let me know what you think!**

**enjoy!**

**will update in about a week, since that seems like a reasonable time frame?**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Eight

Monkey Shard

Link drew his sword and saw one of the heads, its teeth dripping with green liquid, begin to move. He screamed for Raazi to move—in the blink of an eye, she had rolled out of the way and drawn her daggers. While the head lay in the spot where Raazi had been, stunned for a few moments, Vukan stepped up to it and ripped the head straight from its stem. It shriveled there, leaving nothing but a seed. Link was about to give a sigh of relief, having discovered the secret of defeating this beast...but before he could, that same stem grew back. As if the first head had never been separated from it.

"Ano, out of the way!" Link cried. She put Machi down, ignoring his screams, and pulled out her spear. As another head reached for her, she drove the spear straight through its open mouth, and the scream was so loud it made the temple's ruins shake. Link grabbed onto the wall to steady himself. Raazi stood with her daggers drawn, Vukan with his fists, Anowaika with her spear. Saria, Skull Kid, and Machi were standing at the trees, far away from the Deku Baba, and the monkeys had scattered into the forest almost instantly. Twilight, it seemed, had disappeared. The five heads, one healing itself already from Anowaika's stab, were bobbing now, each facing a different direction. Link realized that he and his comrades were trapped.

_We have to take it down._

All at once, the heads attacked. One at Vukan, one at Raazi, one at Anowaika...and the last two at Link, still standing on the stairs of that temple.

_Piece of cake._

He was standing in front of what used to be a window, and so was completely exposed. One head reached directly toward him, and he stumbled up the stairs to avoid its fatal grip. But as he ran, the other head fell directly in front of him, crashing into those stairs from above the hollow temple walls. Link flipped his sword and drove the hilt down into it, stunned it for a moment, giving himself time to leap over it and continue up the spiraling stairs. There was absolutely no point trying to slice those heads off, because he knew what would happen if he did. So he continued running, waving his sword in the air to distract them.

He glanced over the walls at the others. Vukan was fighting off one of the heads with his clenched fists, punching again and again and again—but the head kept coming back. It managed to bite down on his arm at one point...but it had no effect. Vukan wrenched it off, and they were both back to square one. Anowaika had her spear drawn, was slashing at the approaching menace. Link never knew that she was so competent with a weapon like that (they'd never found themselves in a battle like this before). She twirled it, spun, slashed, used it like an expert. Until, without warning, the Deku Baba reared its head and sent from its jaw a glob of its green saliva toward her. She raised her arm to block it, and her scaly skin began to burn.

"Deku Baba spit, spit, buuurn!" cackled Skull Kid.

"Ano!" Link screamed, as she dropped her spear and fell to her knees, gasping. The Deku Baba approached her then, ready to feast.

But Link was faster. He drew the boomerang from his belt, closed his left eye to aim, and threw it. The force of the toss nearly sent him backward, made his hair fly. The weapon drove itself into the Deku Baba's head, sent it flailing backward. It gave Raazi enough time to pull out a vial, throw it into the air, and snap her fingers—creating a puff of smoke that completely hid the three of them. Link started running up the stairs again, reaching his arm out to catch the boomerang as it made its way back.

_You sure are something, Damita._

"Boom, boom, boom-er-ANG!"

The two heads were hovering, waiting for the spiral staircase to twist back to where they stood. Link had no choice but to keep running. The other three heads were hovering, confused at their sudden blindness. They could no longer see their prey, no longer see the Zora, the Goron, or the Gerudo that had been there only moments ago. Link hoped that Raazi had a trick up her sleeve. That she had used that specific alchemy for a reason. That there was more coming.

"Skull Kid can't, can-NOT SEE!"

Suddenly, one of the heads attacking Link opened its mouth, and before he could realize what was happening, sent a flurry of Deku seeds from its jaw. Link halted in his tracks and ducked, hearing them zoom over his head and into the forest behind the ruins. He realized he was going to have to act fast if they were to destroy this. The problem was that he didn't know how.

_Yet._

Link stood up and started running again, faster. The heads lunged at him, but he avoided their attacks, smacked them with the side of his sword, kicked them out of his way. He needed to get to the top of the ruins. As he ran up, he spun around and threw the boomerang at the two heads, stunning them and allowing him more time to run. Finally, he was high enough to look down and see exactly where everything was, even through Raazi's smoke. The heads down there were beginning to gain their own sight, as well. Anowaika had managed to heal her arm enough that she was standing, wielding her spear again. Vukan stood beside her...a bad idea, considering the fact that once the fog lifted, they would be right next to each other. Raazi was standing a few meters away from them, her skirt lifted and her hands moving along the bracer Damita had given her.

And then Link saw it.

Right in the center of the Deku Baba heads.

It looked like the bud of a plant, closed in on itself. If they opened it, they would expose the very heart of this beast, and they would win. Link smirked to himself, though he didn't have much time. The heads were coming toward him, and he didn't have anywhere else to run. He cupped his hands around his mouth and prayed that they would hear him.

"Lift the fog!" he screamed. They all looked up at where he was, the top of the Forest Temple. "Vukan, once it's lifted, grab two of them—Anowaika, distract the other. Raazi!" He pointed to where the bud was. "We need fire."

"Fi-YER! Fi-YER!"

They all nodded. And it was perfect timing. For the heads had reached him, and he was trapped. He balanced himself on the top, knowing that one bad step, and he would fall back to his death. He ducked, he moved to the side, he fought them back with aimless waves of his sword. All while looking back over his shoulder to see what was happening. With a snap of her fingers, the fog had lifted, leaving the three of them exposed. And then Link's plan went into action. Vukan, with the type of grumbling scream that could only be achieved by a Goron, curled up into a ball and rolled back and forth, until he had their attention. They lunged, he hopped from his ball, and he grabbed their stems. So tightly they couldn't move. Anowaika screamed at the third, waved her spear, and waited for it to attack. When it did, she was ready, smacking it back and forth (futilely) with her spear.

As Raazi lifted another vial from her bracer, popped open the lid, and dipped her finger in, Link knew he barely had any time left. One of the heads bit so closely that a piece of his tunic was ripped off and he had a gash in his skin. The other attacked almost instantaneously, and Link had no choice but to drop to his stomach to avoid having his head bitten right off. He scrambled back to his feet and realized that, in the chaos, his sword had fallen from the tower and was in the grass below. So, so far below.

_Shit._

Raazi opened two more vials, dipped that same finger into each one. Once she had the liquid from the three different vials on her finger, she rubbed it against her thumb, glanced up at Link. He could just barely see her nod. Then, she snapped her fingers, and a flame appeared above her index finger. She blew. What looked like a snake of pure fire flew from her finger and twirled around the clearing. With all five heads distracted, the bud in the middle was completely exposed. The fire wrapped itself around that bud, burned into its flesh, until it (along with the fire) was completely gone. All five heads screamed in pain, which gave Link just the amount of time that he needed. For there, where that protective bud had been moments ago, was what looked like a mound of red flesh. It was, he knew, the heart and brain of his creature.

He faced the clearing, his toes hanging just above the edge of the ruins. He had no choice now. And he saw the heads behind him beginning to regain their composure, readying their sharp teeth for food.

_Now._

Just before the heads were able to grab onto him, he crouched low, and then jumped.

Everything was moving so fast. But he was just as fast.

While he flew through the air, Link drew his bow, nocked an arrow, aimed at the heart, and let the arrow fly.

"DEKU BABA GO BYE-BYE!"

As the arrow embedded itself into the mound of flesh, each head shriveled up and collapsed, completely and utterly dead.

As Link had been hoping, Vukan caught him just before his body crashed to the ground, and his feet were soon safely on the ground.

"Thanks, bud," he breathed, and they pounded their fists against each other quickly.

They were all panting, catching their breath, grabbing their bleeding cuts. Ano's arm was burned, Vukan had cuts in his rocky skin, Raazi's fingers were scalded and her hair was falling out of place. Link put his hands on his hips and spit into a nearby bush, and could see blood in his saliva.

"Everyone okay?" he breathed. They all nodded, staring at the shriveled up Deku Baba heads. Just then, Saria, Skull Kid, and Machi approached. Twilight was still nowhere to be seen.

"Nobody has ever been able to even touch that thing," Saria said with a smile, "and you killed it. Thank you so much."

"How long has it been here?" Raazi asked. Her voice was tired and hoarse.

"Not too long—well, relatively, I mean. About seven years." Link cringed at the mention of that. He felt it resonate within him.

_Seven years. The same amount of time it's been since I lost my memory._

"Deku Baba's dead, dead, dead! Deku Baba's dead, dead, DEAD!" Skull Kid was playing his flute and hopping in circles around the plant's corpse.

"It only came out sometimes. Seldom enough that the monkeys decided to take over the ruins of the Forest Temple. They found the Triforce here and have been keeping it. But maybe now that you've rid them of their parasite issue..." Saria raised her eyebrows and shrugged. Machi began squealing again, reaching up his arms toward Anowaika. With a click of her tongue, she picked him up and squeezed.

As if on cue, the monkeys appeared, screeching and hollering (in joy, Link assumed). They surrounded the four of them, hopping and clapping and pushing each other excitedly. Link smiled while Raazi and Anowaika laughed, and Vukan grumbled. Certainly he had had enough of this all-too-green forest.

"They say they're grateful," Saria translated, "and they want to give you something in return."

"How nice of them," Link grinned. One of the monkeys with the flower stepped forward, a suddenly gentle sparkle in her eyes. Link crouched down until he was at eye-level with her. She whimpered a few times, tilted her head while she looked into his eyes. She lifted her monkey fingers and touched a scratch that had made its way to his eyebrow. Then, she grabbed both his hands and cupped them together. A few other monkeys approached behind her, carrying something large in their arms. It looked like a shattered piece of gold—pure gold. He heard the others gasp, but he didn't do anything. Didn't say a word, while they placed the piece of gold into his cupped hands.

And then it happened again. Exactly what had happened back at the Snowhead Sanctuary. He heard the voices chanting around him, saw a bright light, felt pain unlike anything he'd ever experienced in his left hand. Even through the glove he could see the Triforce glowing there. He closed his eyes to try and drown it all out, but he knew there was no escape from this.

When he opened them, everything was exactly the way it had been before, except he was on his back, the sky spinning above him. His left hand was tingling, and the piece of gold was gone. And suddenly, Twilight appeared above him. Somehow, he looked sagacious. Like he was proud, wise, satisfied that Link had finished what he'd come here to do. Link sat up, and Twilight helped by pushing against his back with his head. The others crouched around him, while he grasped his wrist and tried to keep from trembling. Raazi reached forward and brushed the matted hair from his wet forehead.

"Well done, little wolf," she said. "You have reclaimed two pieces now."

Twilight rubbed his nose against Link's dirt-covered cheek, and he felt warm. Link slouched down and let out the breath he had been holding. Then, Twilight lifted something in his mouth and dropped it into Link's lap. It was his sword.

Link put his hand on Twilight's head and smiled.

_Where did you come from?_

"Link," Anowaika said. She was putting away her pictograph box, which he hadn't even noticed she'd taken out. "We should probably head back to Ordon. I bet Talon and Malon are worried; it's getting late."

Link hadn't even noticed, but Anowaika was right. He nodded, silently, and Vukan helped him to his feet.

"Thank you for coming to this forest to help us," Saria said. Skull Kid was still running around, screaming, and Machi cried, "Kwee!"

"To be honest, we didn't come to help you," Link sighed. "We came to get the Triforce."

"That's helping us more than you can imagine," she said. "The Triforce is a beautiful thing, but...it's been hurting the forest. It's been trying to leave, to find you. But it's been trapped here. Now that it's free, we can live in peace."

"The forest is still cursed," Anowaika said softly. "We couldn't help you."

"It has been cursed for centuries. We've lived here for a very long time. We'll continue to live here."

"If we leave," Link began, "we'll never be able to come back, right?"

Silently, with a sad smile, Saria nodded. Then, without warning, she stepped forward and wrapped her arms around his waist. She hugged him as tightly as she could and, with wide, surprised eyes, Link hugged her back.

"Thank you, Link. I've been waiting so long," she said. He felt the tears running down her cheeks. "I'll probably have to wait even longer this time. But we'll see each other again. I'll be here. Always. You know where to find me."

Link felt something so strange then. Felt as if Saria were a part of him, a part of his history and his soul and his future. He hugged her back. He didn't bother looking at how the others were reacting. He just hugged her, while Skull Kid played that melody on his flute.

"Saria's Song, Sari-YA!"

"Don't forget me, okay, Link?"

"Okay."

They separated. Link sheathed his sword and felt Twilight rub against his leg. It was time to go. Time to leave this place of hidden people, quiet languages, destroyed cultures. He looked up at the Forest Temple and wanted to cry. He could imagine how beautiful it once had been.

"Walk back through the trees. Just keep walking, and don't look back. Twilight will help you. If you get lost, listen to the sound of our music."

They all nodded. Anowaika put Machi back on the ground. This time he didn't scream. And then, while Saria, Machi, and Skull Kid stood together, she took a pictograph.

The four of them turned around and followed Twilight out of the forest, listening to the sound of Saria's haunting ocarina and Skull Kid's sad, lonely laughter.

* * *

When they emerged into Ordon, it was nighttime. They had been gone all day, it seemed, roaming in the Lost Woods. Link was walking in a haze. The triangle on his hand was glowing a little bit more brightly now. He walked slowly, hands in his pockets, a blade of thick grass between his teeth. Ordon hadn't changed at all since the night before. Still bustling, still fresh with the aromas of a farm village. Farmers returning, teenagers coming out of their small houses, the sounds of horses and carriages (and the sneers of the Iron Warriors). They all walked toward the small cottage they had been staying in, and Link realized too late that Twilight had disappeared. He woke from his haze and began looking around desperately. But the wolf was gone. Link glanced over his shoulder at the entrance to the woods. Twilight wasn't there, either. The path was completely clear.

When they all walked into the cottage, Malon was already in there. Tidying up, it seemed. With a gasp, she whirled around, and when she saw them, she dropped the bucket she was holding. Link raised his eyebrows and gave a crooked smile, because he had almost forgotten how breathtaking she was. Looking at her made him forget the ordeal he had just been through, and the fact that Twilight was gone.

"L-Link!" she cried, mouth open.

"We told you we'd be back by dinner," he said. Malon furrowed her brow and began scrambling, tucking her hair behind her ear, fixing her dress, picking up the bucket.

"What are you talking about?" she breathed. "Y'all have been gone for two weeks! We thought you were dead."


	50. Conqueror's Greatest Failure

**time for everyone's favorite person...**

**zelda...**

**yay...**

**okay warning this chapter is hella cliche. Like been done over a million times. I'm sorry but I just got kind of lazy with it, cut me some slack? **

**All right so I've decided I'm just gonna update every Wednesday. That might even give me time to finish up some chapters for the second book and actually post it as I go, but we shall see (cuz that would be breaking my policy uh-oh). **

**Lemme know what you think! I love hearing your thoughts :) **

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Forty-Nine

Conqueror's Greatest Failure

Zelda sat on her throne, gloved fingers gripping the seat and back straight. On her right stood a member of the Royal Council, an advisor. She didn't trust any of them, really, and never took their advice to heart, but having an advisor (and a council in general) was a tradition of the royal family that she felt no need to change. On her left, as it had been for the past six or seven months, stood Karis. Dressed so prettily, his hair brushed back from his violet eyes and feminine face, the aroma of roses drifting from his skin. He was standing with a light smile on his face, hands clasped behind his back, staring straight ahead. Just as Zelda was. The throne room was lined with Iron Warriors and the nobles and aristocrats of the court, clothed in their frilly dresses and petticoats and their hair swirling up and down and around. They left a path in the center, from the doors leading to the throne.

"Next, a thief from the slums of South Castilia enters Your Highness's court."

"Let him enter," she called. Two of her people opened the doors to the throne room, and an Iron Warrior walked in. He dragged behind him a woman, perhaps in her forties, her hands and legs chained and her clothing in tatters.

It was the time of day that Zelda enjoyed most. The prisoners captured from the morning and the night before were brought before her to be sentenced. She loved this part of the day because there was nothing that made her feel more powerful. For she held within her hands the lives and fates of every citizen in Castilia, and this was the time to exercise this power. Her fingertips tingled with the mere anticipation.

"What is your crime?" she called.

"This woman was caught stealing from a butcher's shop," the Iron Warrior replied. "She tried to take a full pound of meat."

"Please, Your Highness," the woman shrieked. Tears streamed down her dirty cheeks, and her voice was so high and shrill and desperate that Zelda could see Karis cringe in her peripheral vision. "I have a family to feed—four children. If you throw me in jail, they'll be all alone, and—"

"Silence. You have no more say in this," Queen Zelda hissed. Her voice alone was enough to silence the woman. Make her cower.

_Exactly what I want to see._

"You have committed your crime, and now must take responsibility. Into the dungeon. For three years."

As the woman began screaming, kicking and flailing as she was led away, Karis turned to face Zelda.

"Your Highness," he murmured. She glanced at him, and saw compassion in his eyes. The sight made her sick. Why he had taken it upon himself to be such a philanthropist, she had no idea. His parents certainly were not like that. "Three years for a pound of meat? Don't you think that's a bit...well...much?"

"My dear Karis," she smiled, "if we do not punish the people for what they have done, what is to stop them in the future?"

"This is _not_ the answer, Queen Zelda."

"Do not question me, Karis. The only reason you are standing beside me is because I think your blood is pure enough to run through my child's veins. But I can change my mind at any moment." She said the words with hate, with anger, but with a smile on her face and an iciness in her voice. She saw Karis clench his teeth for a moment, and then turn away in a fit of coughing. Then she faced the Iron Warrior. "Take her away and send in the next criminal."

"Yes, Your Highness."

Her screams echoed through the room, even after she had been dragged down to the dungeon. But as the next person was being led inside, Zelda saw the Triforce on her right hand beginning to glow. In anticipation, she grabbed her wrist, clenched her teeth.

_No. This time, you won't scream._

The pain spread through her arm, set her hand and soul on fire. In raw, physical anguish and unadulterated fury. This pain, the glowing, it could only mean one thing.

_He's found another piece._

"Your Highness, are you all right?" her advisor asked. She shooed him away, and as the pain subsided, returned to her position. As angry as she was, she concealed it. If only for the time being. Her thoughts drifted to Link, to Sheik, to everything she was trying to achieve.

_You're running out of time, Sheik. Do not disappoint me. _

"What is your crime?"

* * *

That evening, Zelda put on her black nightdress, let her hair flow as it was, took off all her jewelry, and walked through the halls of her castle. It was dark and silent but for the patter of her slippered footsteps and, she imagined, the moans of the prisoners in the dungeons below. But she walked as if everybody in Hyrule were watching. Glanced around her, kept her chin held high, looked down upon each and every imaginary face. She had been walking this way since the age of five. Even alone, it was a habit. To hold herself as a queen. For there was never a moment that she wasn't a queen.

She smiled at that thought.

Queen Zelda had a very specific destination in mind. She walked through the halls, and passed a few Iron Warriors on guard, but said not a word to them as they halted in their spots and bowed their heads. She made her way up spiral staircases, higher and higher and higher, until she was at the highest room in the highest tower of Hyrule Castle. She let her slender fingers run along the stones of this tower as she walked up the staircases, and listened very hard to the echoes of her own breathing. The lanterns on the wall gave the narrow stairwell a beautiful, comforting orange glow that others might have believed eerie, haunting, even. But she had grown accustomed. She walked, and touched each flame with the tip of her right finger. Felt nothing.

At the top of the staircase was a grand wooden door, evidently from times earlier than her own. She put her hands on the iron doorknob and it felt cold. She pushed the door open and walked inside. The door fell closed behind her, and she was alone in this room. A room in which she had spent so many hours as a little girl, looking for a role model and a teacher and a family. None of those things mattered to her anymore, and as much as Zelda despised turning toward the past, something about this room had continued to draw her in. Even in its emptiness, empty for 15 years now, she visited it some nights.

It was the room where Zelda's grandmother, Arielda, spent the last seven years of her life. Bedridden, having her granddaughter read to her and listen to her stories. Where Queen Arielda the Conqueror, vanquisher of all Four Lands, said things that nobody but Zelda had heard. Where she gave her dying breath and touched Zelda's hair and made her feel, for the only time in her life, that she was somehow loved.

Zelda walked over to the bed where her grandmother had died and sat down. There was a book on the table beside it. It was her grandmother's favorite book (Zelda had inherited her love of reading from Arielda). She had read it so many times, over and over again, until the very minute she died. Zelda grabbed the book and flipped through its pages, which smelled of her old, frowning grandmother. Zelda had never once seen her smile—except for the moment of her last breath.

She wasn't sure why she came here so often. She was not sad, was not nostalgic, could not find within herself a remorse or a regret or a wish that her grandmother were still alive. And yet, this room called to her. The book beside the bed asked for her, and the bed itself—still stained with the staleness of a dying queen—tried to remind her of what it had once held. Zelda always wore black when she came into her grandmother's old room. And she never allowed anybody else inside. Along with her room, the only forbidden area of the castle to the Iron Warriors.

* * *

_My grandmother loved very much to talk and tell stories. And it seemed like, as a young girl thirsty for knowledge and love, I was the only one willing to listen. She told me everything about her life, from when she was my age to her very old age. Grandmother was not very old, actually. She died when she was only fifty-seven. But a mysterious power had done something terrible to her body, even at so young. When she turned fifty, the world almost believed that she had turned ninety, for her skin folded in terribly ugly wrinkles all over her skin, her eyes were watery and nearly blind, her hair was a faded gray and she could not get out of bed. There were rumors that the war had done this to her, that the stress of it all made her age so much more quickly. My mother used to tell me that my grandmother was suffering because she made other people suffer. _

_ "Do you see your grandmother, Zelda, my darling?" she would say with a stern tone. "If you are bad to people, if you hurt people and kill them like Grandmother did, then you will look like that, too." _

_ Mother hated Grandmother for everything that she had done. But I never believed her. I thought that she was blinded by her hate and couldn't see the wonderful things that Grandmother had done. As a young girl, I believed with all my tiny heart that she had done the right thing for the people of Hyrule. Brought together four lands and four people into one. _

_ How blind I was. _

_ That is not to say that my mother was right. No, I still hate my mother as I've never hated anybody, and I believe in my grandmother. I believe in everything that she did. But she did not bring four people together for the sake of togetherness._

_ She brought four people together to have power over all four. To exercise her power and, like my mother said, to make them suffer. I take after her in many ways. One is that lust for power. When I was younger, I believed wisdom to be the strongest virtue; but now that I have mastered it, I realize that the strongest virtue is power. _

_ When my grandmother fell into her stupendous oldness, I would come up to this room and sit at her bedside while she told me her stories. First, she told me about her childhood. Very much like mine. My mother never liked to read, not like my grandmother and I did. It has been a long time since I read for pleasure, but even after the war, Grandmother read. She was the one who told me about my secret area in the garden, where I used to take my books. I kept going there even after she died. _

_ Grandmother told me stories about the war, too. She told me about the faraway deserts, mountains, and oceans she saw. About the people she met—the people she met and conquered. She never said anything about her reasons. She only told me the history. That wherever she and her army went, chaos and fire and bloodshed followed. That she could strike fear into the hearts of all. As young and naïve as I was, as tailored to the world of little princesses, I was entranced. It all seemed so very romantic to me. And my grandmother, my very own blood, had travelled and conquered all of Hyrule. I asked her why once, and she simply said, "Because I did." Not an answer I have ever come to understand. _

_ When I was seven years old, my grandmother died. It was in her sleep, and I was the only person in the room. She told me that she knew she was dying, and she wanted to be alone with me. There were tears streaming down my face and I was sobbing harder than I had ever sobbed before and would ever sob again. Even harder than when Link left. As is my tradition, I do not like to think back on it. The past is so useless. But the image of my grandmother on her deathbed, her last words floating in and out of my ears, remain. She grabbed my hand and brought me close and stroked my cheeks as she always had. _

_ "You want to know why I started the war, child?" she asked. _

_ I told her not to talk. _

_ "I started the war because I wanted power," she said. "Do you want to know a secret, Zelda?" _

_ Through my weeps, I nodded. She pulled me closer and whispered into my ear, "I regret everything I have ever done in my life. Except for you. Power is no virtue...power is a vice." _

_ And then she fell asleep. And she never woke up. _

_ I understood nothing, except that my grandmother was dead and I was heartbroken. _

_ Of course, when I inherited the Triforce of Wisdom and grew older, I came to understand. But by that time, it didn't matter. By that time, I had already decided what I wanted. And even the words of a dying, remorseful woman meant nothing to me. My grandmother failed in two ways: convincing me that what she did was wrong, and trusting in my inherent goodness. _

_ Her words still mean nothing to me. Vice or virtue, power is still power. _

_ And it shall still be mine. _

_ I suppose, contrary to her own belief, Grandmother's greatest failure was me._

* * *

**_pssssstttt_**

**_sorry to bother you but_**

**_it would mean a lot if you reviewed_**

**_i love you_**

**_ur cute_**


	51. Where I Go

**next chapter!**

**it's a good one**

**if you know what i mean**

**( ‾ʖ̫‾)**

**enjoy! **

**don't forget to review!**

**chapter 51 will be up next wednesday yaayyyy**

**xoxoxo**

* * *

Chapter Fifty

Where I Go

"Two weeks?" Anowaika cried. "We've only been gone for a day."

Malon shook her head, and as fidgety and nervous as she was, her cheeks were red with relief. Link blinked a few times, took in his surroundings and what she had just said, and then stepped out of his boots and sat on the nearest chair.

"It's been two weeks," she repeated. "Daddy and I thought...well, we thought you'd ended up like everybody else. The only weird thing was that the wolf was gone. But we thought you were dead."

They all looked at each other, confused.

"But I guess it's okay," Malon said. That sweet smile had returned to her face, and Link felt like he was going to explode. "I'm just happy you're back. Come to the pub and we'll have dinner ready for you—Daddy and I want to hear everything. Got it?"

They all nodded, and Malon turned to leave. But before she did, she turned to Link, and he met her eyes with excruciating desire.

"I took good care of Epona for you," she said. Then she left, taking every ounce of his common sense with her. The others sat down beside him, all of them drenched in sweat and whirling with the confusion.

"We were in there for two weeks?" Anowaika gaped. She put a hand to her head and swallowed. "I could have sworn it was just a day."

"Time moves differently in the forest," Raazi said. Her voice was thoughtful, and she was moving her hands a lot. "Perhaps a reason the races of the forest are still thriving."

"I don't know if thriving is the right word," Link scoffed. Everybody else was quiet. "Well. Guess we're going to the pub. Don't know about you guys, but Ravio's pretty hungry."

* * *

They ate their dinner in the same room as the first night, away from the hustle and bustle and loud music of the pub. Malon did not dine with them. The four travelers sat with the husky Talon among them, gushing about how excited he was to see them, how he had been sure of their death, how he had been preparing a good way to tell Shad that he had let his friends die. With his hearty laughter and rumbling stomach, he told them how relieved he was. He told them that since their arrival, something in the air of Ordon had changed—something in the town's inhabitants had shifted. As if Link and the others had brought with them a mysterious wind of change, with simply the spring in their step and the sparkle in their eyes. That made Link smile, as he drank his milk and honey and thought, perhaps starting a revolution wouldn't be as hard as he'd anticipated. Because it seemed like the people were ready.

Talon asked them what the forest was like. There was an understanding among the four of them that they would not speak a word about the hidden civilizations still living there, nothing about the curse. They said that they happened to stumble upon the Forest Temple, that the Triforce had serendipitously fallen into their hands and the forest had allowed them a safe escape. Talon seemed skeptical. But Link understood that, after so many people had disappeared. Really, Link wasn't thinking much about the Triforce. Or about his journey in the forest. Mostly, he was thinking about Malon—and the beautiful nap he was going to take on that stack of hay in the barn. While the others spoke, he grabbed a toothpick and stuck it between his teeth. He leaned his hands back on the couch and let himself forget the day's (the two week's?) events. He wanted to relax. If only for today...because he knew tomorrow would be completely different.

"Talon, I have a question," Anowaika said at one point, after a silent lull.

"Yeah?"

"You mentioned...well, you mentioned that the reason you fight is for your daughter. You know, wanting her to live in a world with better people and more freedom and all that."

"That's right."

"But hasn't she lived here her whole life?" Anowaika asked. Talon nodded, his brow furrowed. Link was suddenly interested in the conversation, because he knew where it was headed.

"And what's your point?"

"Well...I don't mean to sound rude, but..."

"How bad can it be?" Link interrupted. "You live in an old farming town and most of the inhabitants are Hylian. You're lucky compared to most."

Talon lowered his gaze and stared at his clasped fingers for a few moments. The silence, Link could see, was crippling for him. And for the others. There was a sudden tension in the room, one that made Link sit forward in his seat and take the toothpick from his mouth. He was definitely curious now.

"I see what you're saying," he scoffed. "You think we have it easy down here."

"That's not what I meant at all," Anowaika stumbled.

"I know what you meant." He looked up, and his brown eyes flashed. Link could see his knuckles turning white from how hard he was clenching them. This was exactly what he wanted to see in people. "You wanna hear a secret?"

They all leaned in close, as if the crackling fire or the walls might hear them.

"Let me tell you how a dictatorship works, kiddies," he hissed. "The further you are, the tighter a dictator's grip. Because the further you are, the more likely you are to slip from her grasp. She holds on tight, tight, _tight_, so tight that you can't breathe. Even if you're a little farming town filled with good, hard-working people who've never done a bad thing in their life, she'll squeeze the life out of you."

Link believed every word. Zelda was no idiot. As evil and dark as she was, she knew how to be a dictator. If there was only one thing in the world that she knew, it was that. How to persecute.

"If you knew the terrible things these Iron knuckleheads have done to us...if you had to pay the money we have to pay, make the sacrifices we make every day..."

"Everybody seems so happy here," Anowaika murmured. Link had to admit that she was right. They did seem happy.

"You think what we have here is happiness?" Talon sighed. "I think a lot of the people here think that, too. That's not happiness. That's adaptation. We've learned to live with it. The Iron Warriors rampaging through our houses whenever they please, stealing our things, humiliating every last one of us. Running through the fields, stomping over our crops and throwing us to the ground when we resist. Do you know what it's like to live looking over your shoulder at every second, watching every word that comes out of your mouth? Afraid that someone is going to hurt you when you turn the next corner?"

"Yes."

Everyone turned and looked at Raazi. She was leaning back against her chair, legs tucked beneath her and face completely and utterly stoic. She had answered him as if it were the only natural thing left in the world.

"W-what?" Talon stuttered.

"Yes, I do know how it feels," she repeated. Then, she smiled, and Link felt chills. "I lived for eighteen years in the Gerudo Deserts, after all."

They fell silent again for a few moments, until Talon continued. He seemed embarrassed somehow. Nervous, remorseful.

"Malon has seen terrible things. And I've seen terrible things," he said. "I want her to live in a world where she can walk home by herself without worry. Where she can go out with her friends when she feels like it. Where she can fall in love, have a family, work and farm and live and love the way _she_ wants. Not the way she's told."

Talon stood up and it was evident that that was the end of the conversation. He told them that they were welcome to stay in his cottage for as long as they needed, and that, in fact, he and some others in the village would appreciate their help. By help, he meant advice and tactics of trained rebel mercenaries, Link knew. And he was more than willing to give it. He waved his hand at Talon as he left, stuck the toothpick back in his mouth, and let his mind wander again.

* * *

When Link lay awake that night, he didn't hear Malon singing. But he went outside anyway. Armed with his sword and being careful to avoid contact with the Iron Warriors, he took the short stroll to the barn where he had first heard her sing. He knew that Raazi had seen him leave, but he had decided to ignore it. She wouldn't try to stop him. He walked the street, disturbed by the silence for the first time, and slipped silently into the barn. It had the same, heavenly glow as always, filled with the natural and calming sounds of the animals. Link stood at the door for a few moments and listened. Let everything wash over him. He realized then, for the first time since their emergence from the forest, that he hadn't asked Anowaika to heal his wounds. Maybe she had forgotten. He wondered if she'd healed anybody else. The gash on his stomach was still there, though he'd wrapped it haphazardly in his rags.

He didn't mind it.

Link dropped his sword near the entrance and took off his boots because he wanted to feel the dirt, the grime, everything beneath his toes. For he had a strange premonition that this would be the last time he'd feel this peaceful in a long time. Though they'd already travelled more than he ever had in his life, though they'd already climbed mountains and traversed labyrinthine forests and battled mutant plants, he just knew. He just knew that the worst was yet to come. Two out of eight.

_Six more to go. There's still a lot to come._

Link walked to Epona and let his forehead fall against hers. He felt her warm breath and his hands stroked her neck absentmindedly. He could have fallen asleep like that, but he decided that he preferred the pile of hay for a bed. He slipped his horse a sugar cube, talked to her for a few minutes, doted on her as a father might his little daughter, and then fell back onto the pile of hay he had slept on, it seemed, only yesterday. He untied his hair and stared up at the wooden lofts of the barn's ceiling, searched for the incredulous eyes of an owl or a crow or even a mouse scurrying around up there. When he closed his eyes, he was surprised at himself. Because he saw Saria there.

He had to open his eyes so he wouldn't see her.

_I wish Twilight hadn't left._

The door of the barn opened, but Link didn't move. He knew who it was.

"You're here," Malon said. "It's so late."

"Mm."

"What are you doing?"

"I was hoping to hear you sing again. But then I decided the hay was a nice bed. So here I am."

He glanced up at her, and saw her standing with a smile that was bashful, excited, charming and intriguing all at once.

"You wanted to hear me sing?" she said. "So that _was_ you the other night."

"Guilty as charged."

He heard her begin walking, taking her sweet time about it. Pausing to pet the horses, to whisper their names and give them treats. She even stopped at Epona's stall, and as reluctant as Epona was, she allowed her a single stroke.

"Do you still want me to sing?" he heard her ask, while he stared at the ceiling. He was worried that if he said yes, his heart would explode. But he was even more worried that if he said no, his heart would just shrivel up and die right there. So he didn't say anything. He just kept staring.

Thankfully, Malon did start to sing. He heard an entire symphony in that barn. Her voice echoed along the walls, in between his ears and into every crevice of his mind. He could have sworn that he saw even the horses straighten up, saw their ears twitch. But he absolutely would not let himself look at her. Because he had no way of predicting what would happen if he did that. Perhaps something wonderful—but perhaps something utterly terrible. So he just lay there and listen. He could tell she was meandering through the barn, walking in that special way that she had with her hands behind her back and the dirt flying from her boots.

At one point, she paused. And before Link could control himself he said, "Don't stop."

So she kept going.

_If I could just hear this, all the time, maybe life would be a little bit easier. _

Before he knew it, Malon had taken off her own boots and sat down next him on the hay. It rustled and shifted, and he glanced over at her. Her lips were pursed (they made him so crazy) as the notes fell from them, her eyes dazzling, her hair messy and natural and so, so red. Her cheeks were red, too. Red enough that if he touched them, they might have been hotter than fire.

After what seemed like forever, and yet felt like only a moment, she stopped singing. She lay down on the side of her arm and looked at him. He craned his neck so he could look back at her.

"Tell me something," she whispered, "and I want a real answer this time. Why do you like honey with your milk?"

"Why are you asking me that?"

"Because it's so strange. I've been working with milk-lovers for twenty years, and I've never met anybody who only drinks milk with honey."

"It's not that strange," he shrugged. "I just like it sweet."

"But why?"

He paused, mulled over his thoughts. That look she was giving him made it very hard to think. "Because there aren't enough sweet things in this world, I guess. I'm not very sweet. So when I can get it, I will."

"Really? That's your answer?"

"I guess so."

"I like it." She giggled. "It's a nice answer."

"Where did you learn that song?"

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"I don't remember," she said. "I've just known it all my life, that's all."

"Oh."

"Can I ask you another question?"

"Mm."

"Where are you going to go when you leave here?" Her voice had dropped dangerously low. All he could do was shrug. "You don't know what you're going to do?"

"No."

"Doesn't that...doesn't that scare you?"

"Sure. But I don't mind."

"Why not?"

"Because everything exciting is a little bit scary at first. That's what I've learned, anyway."

She laughed again.

"You know, when you decide to open your mouth, you can say some pretty neat things," she teased.

"Yeah?" He raised his eyebrows at her, and realized too late that she had come closer. She was so, so close.

"Yeah."

He smiled, and then started to retie his hair. But Malon grabbed his wrist, in the most delicate, shocking touch he'd ever felt.

"Don't tie it up," she said. "I like it when it's left alone like that."

Link leaned forward and kissed her. He kissed her, silent and still, until he couldn't breathe anymore. It was such a strange kiss. Bitter and sweet all at once. She kissed him back, but she didn't move.

"That was the first time I've ever kissed anyone," she said. She sounded like she were laughing at herself.

"Really? The first time you've been kissed?"

"No, no," she shook her head. "I've been kissed before. But _I've_ never kissed. Can I...how do I ask this...can I kiss you first this time?"

He didn't have time to answer. Malon put her hand on his cheek and kissed him very gently. And she didn't stop. He inched closer, his hand reaching up beneath her skirt to stroke her leg. Hay falling from her hair and her clothes, she climbed on top of him, let her body rest atop his. He was soaring, perhaps never to touch the earth again, as he tasted that musky skin whose smell had driven him insane, was tickled by the soft strands of hair whose color had nearly blinded him. He held her so close, opened his mouth wider and felt her fall into rhythm with him.

_I don't know if I'll ever let go now._

They needed to come up for air. They pulled apart, and she fell onto her back against the hay. Link sat up, moved so that he was directly above her, arms on either side of her head, staring down. Her delicate fingers reached up and fiddled with the front of his shirt.

"You've probably heard this before, but..." he began.

"Yes?"

"You're really beautiful."

When he said that, he saw tears in her eyes. That scared him. It was the first break he'd seen in her, the first crack in her shell of kindness, of happiness, of contentment and satisfaction.

"Don't tell me I'm beautiful," she said. It was so quiet he could hardly hear her. He leaned forward until their foreheads touched. "I've heard that too many times."

He opened his mouth to respond, and then realized that he couldn't.

"Tell me I'm smart. Tell me I'm...tell me I'm strong."

"You're smart," he said. "You're strong."

She smiled, but it was a sad, empty smile, with her shaky eyes and quivering lips and messy hair and red cheeks. "And please, for the love of Nayru, don't tell me you love me. I know you don't, and I don't wanna hear it."

"Okay. I won't."

He couldn't stop himself anymore.

Link fell forward and kissed her again, with an unusual desperation. They twisted and turned together, breathed the same air and tasted the same salts. But it felt, in a way, sorrowful. She was still crying, and Link didn't know what to do about it. All he knew was that the most beautiful girl he had ever seen was kissing him, and he would have been insane to not kiss her back.

"Link," she whispered in his ear as he slipped her dress over her head. His name sounded surreal on her lips. "You have to promise me something, okay?"

"Okay."

"Don't ever forget how free you are," she said. "I mean, I know it's not real freedom, but...just don't forget. Don't forget how lucky you are to say, 'I don't know where I'm going tomorrow' instead of 'I don't know where they'll take me tomorrow.'"

Link nodded.

And as he made love to Malon that night, he wished that he had never come to Ordon. Maybe it had been a place of comfort and family long ago, but not anymore. This was no place of comfort. Perhaps for the weak of heart, it was.

But Malon was not among the weak of heart. And so she cried and kissed and said, "You are free."


	52. Correspondence--Ordon

**another cop-out chapter, i'm afraid.**

**but hey, it's better than a time-lapse, right? RIGHT? **

**next chapter in one week! (four to go including this one!) **

**enjoy :) **

**xoxo**

**p.s: idk if I thank you guys enough for your support. honestly. it means the world to me knowing that people read my writing and that it gives them SOME type of emotion, whatever it may be :) stay sexy. **

* * *

Chapter Fifty-One

Correspondence—In Ordon

_Dear Damita,_

_ Don't get mad at me for not sending a letter in a while. You're probably not going to believe what happened. This is actually the first day that we're back in Ordon. We've been gone for two weeks. I know it sounds weird, but hear me out. Talon, the guy who owns the pub that Shad knows, told us about Faron Woods. They have a nickname for it around here, actually: the Lost Woods. Your silly stories were true, after all. Once you go in, you never come out. Well, we went in. He told us about a forest temple there, a really old one where people used to pay their respects to Farore. Stupid, spiritual stuff. The kind of thing Raazi's really be into. Anyway, she thought that the Triforce would be in there. So we went. And we were in their for two weeks, even though it only felt like one day. _

_ We're sending over some pictographs. I trust you, and I trust Shad. You can't show these to anybody and you can't tell anybody, got it? We found lost civilizations in the forest. People who have lived there secretly for centuries, who apparently once had an entire world in that forest. It's almost gone now, but they still exist. The little girl in the pictures is a Kokiri named Saria. The little boy with the skeleton face is Skull Kid (pretty original name, huh?) and that little potato thing is a Kikwi. I bet Shad's heard of them. Have him look it up for us. We're curious. Oh, right, there was a wolf, too. Named Twilight. He's the reason we were able to get in and out of the forest. It's cursed. That's why everybody gets lost in there. _

_ I'll spare you all the details until we meet again, but we got the second piece of the Triforce. Tell Shad. We're ready to move on. Although, we kind of like Ordon. We're probably going to stay here for at least another week. Tell him to take his time with the planning. The milk here is fantastic. The people are nice. A stereotypical farmers' town. Hey, could you actually ask Shad about Ordon, too? I want to know about Zelda's influence here. I'm sure he knows people in the castle's walls who could tell us some things. _

_ How are you doing? I hope you didn't go through with that boxing thing. Really stupid if you ask me, and I bet Shad said the same thing. Is Tingle starting to get bothersome? Tell them all we said hi. Miss you._

_ Link _

_P.S: Your boomerang works like a charm, darling._

* * *

_Dear Link,_

_ About time we heard from you! We were worried there for a bit. But it sounds like you had quite the adventure in those woods. I'm glad you somehow managed to get out alive (don't know how you did that!). The pictographs are beautiful. I swear, I thought Shad was going to have a seizure he was so excited. It seems like he knew a bit about them. The Kokiri were rumored to be the children of the Great Deku Tree, who was once the guardian of the forest. They never aged, and so were called the Eternal Children by the people who saw them. This girl, Saria, looks really pretty and young. But she's probably like a thousand years old. Weird, right? Skull Kid, Shad said, is a bit more ambiguous. There isn't much documented about them (and a lot of what is documented is hard to access). But there were rumors that little Hylian boys who wandered into the forest became lost, and were destined to turn into the Skull Kids. So that kid you saw probably used to be a little boy. Unfortunately, there's almost nothing about the Kikwi. Seems like they're just ancient. Thanks for the pictographs. A hobby for Ano, perhaps?_

_ I sent one back, though. Maybe you sent it to us on accident, I don't know. I just thought you'd want it. It's the one where you're sitting on the ground and the wolf has his head on your shoulder. It's really nice. I haven't seen you smile like that in a really, really long time. Keep it. Just make sure you bring it back, all right?_

_ Shad says he can plan a route for any place you wanna go next. So, where to, leader man? The Zora Isles, Goron Mountains, or Gerudo Deserts? He has contacts in all of them, so you get to choose, and he'll get in contact with them. It'll take him a bit, so you'll probably get to stick in Ordon for another week or two. Hey, have you found a pretty girl yet? I know you have, you just didn't tell me. Sneaky son of a bitch. _

_ What's it like in Ordon? Send us pictographs of it. It sounds nice. Maybe send a bottle of milk? WITHOUT honey. You know how much I hate the stuff. Shad did what you asked and figured out the status of Ordon in the grand scheme of Zelda's rampage. Apparently, she has a lot of spies and Iron Warriors stationed there, so make sure you're extra careful. As you've probably figured out, it's a really old place. Apparently after the war, there were a few rebellion scares down there, so Zelda has it shut down really tightly. _

_ Things are going okay here. You know, day to day routine as normal. I haven't had a really bad day in a while, which is nice. Having Shad, Telma, and Kafei around is great. Even Tingle's growing on me a bit. Weird little guy, but he is good with the maps. Telma's starting to get serious about her 'activism.' That's what she calls it, at least. Says she's sick of half-bloods (and pretty much anyone who isn't Hylian) pulling the short end of the stick. Who knows what she'll do? Kafei is Kafei. _

_ Figured I'd tell you, he's your replacement as my sleeping buddy. He has nicer hair than you, but definitely not as many muscles. I'm sure you've found one of your own, so I'm just letting you know. _

_ Oh, I also thought you should know that you're speaking with Hyrule's champion underground boxer. Undefeated, baby! For three weeks now. And you were worried. Maybe you should come back and challenge me, huh? _

_ Miss you more, don't forget the pictographs! Send our love to the others. I'm getting used to it, but I think Shad's still adapting. We're thinking of you. _

_ xoxo Damita_

_P.S: Did you honestly think I'd give you subpar weapons? DON'T FORGET TO BUY ARMOR AND A SHIELD, DOOFUS!_

* * *

_Dear Damita,_

_ Champion boxer? Wow. I'm impressed. If you're good at it, by all means, keep going. I just wanna make sure you're still pretty when I get back. Kafei might be okay sleeping with a banged up girl, but I'm definitely not. _

_ Listen, if it's helping you stay positive and avoid your bad spells, keep doing it._

_ I actually have met someone here. Her name's Malon. She's Talon's daughter. Sending a pictograph. She's the one with the red hair and the dimpled smile. Pretty, isn't she? Sweet, too. You wouldn't believe it, but Epona seems to be okay with her. Remember when you tried to pet Epona back when I brought you the stables for the first time? I thought she was going to bite your head off. Anyway, we have fun. But we both know it's not for the long run. Love isn't really something I'm looking for. You know that. Probably better than anyone, actually. _

_ The information Shad sent over was really interesting. Raazi and Anowaika both said that they'd heard of the legend of the Great Deku Tree, and had read somewhere that it died a really long time ago. It makes you wonder...if the legend is true, why didn't the forest die with him? Beats me. Hell if I believe any of this shit. I'm glad you liked the pictographs. I knew Shad would be excited. But you can't tell anybody, remember? Make sure he doesn't get carried away. _

_ We talked a lot about where we wanted to go next, and I feel like everyone has different feelings. Vukan obviously didn't say anything, but I get the feeling he wants to put off going back home as long as possible. Anowaika translated the same thing. So tell Shad we're not going to the Goron Mountains. Raazi was mysterious as always, said some kind of Gerudic riddle. I don't know if she wants to go to the Gerudo Deserts or not. I can never tell with her. But something in my gut says we should put it off. It hasn't been that long since she left, and I don't know what'll happen when we go back. Not to mention how dangerous that place is. Not that I've ever been, but Zelda's nasty to them. As you probably predicted, Anowaika desperately wants to go to the Zora Isles. I don't blame her. It's finally her chance to go back home and discover herself. I'd want to go back, too. _

_ Tell Shad we want to get the pieces in the Zora Isles next. To be honest, I'm worried about Vukan being there. It's really easy for him to drown. But he wants to come, and he claims that he's ready, so let's do it. To the oceans we sail. Just let us know. _

_ Since we've been here, Talon has gathered a secret group of people that meets out by the woods every other night. It's filled with people who just want their freedom. Zelda has cracked down here almost as hard as she does in the Gerudo Deserts, according to Raazi. They can hardly leave their homes when the sun goes down. You wouldn't think it when you see the place. Pretty and bright and lively. But apparently there's a lot more going on. Anyway, this group of people meets, and we give them advice. Strategize. Any way possible to mess with Zelda's plans. _

_ I want to start a revolution, Damita. And this is how to do it. Reach out to individuals who realize that their freedom has been taken away from them, and tell them that they can get it back. Talon, Malon, and the other Ordonians want to get on board. _

_ Glad you're getting to know Tingle better. He's not so bad, right? Let Telma know we support her, too. That woman is a force to be reckoned with._

_ Everybody sends their love. _

_ Link_

_P.S: Kafei's hair may be better than mine, but Malon's hair is definitely better than yours._

* * *

_Dear Link,_

_ Listen to me, okay? I'm being serious right now. I don't want you to ignore this. _

_ You have to watch your back. _

_ When Shad read your letter, he got really pale and fidgety. He wants you to know that trying to start a revolution in Ordon is no joke. It's really dangerous. Be. Careful. Tell the group of people you're helping to be careful, too. Who knows what Zelda is capable of? From what we've seen, she's willing to do anything. Anything and everything. Don't play around, Link. _

_ Shad is setting up contacts in the Zora Isles. In the meantime, here's a map of it and where the pieces are. Obviously, the Zora Isles are scattered throughout the Great Sea. All the rivers in Hyrule flow straight into it. It is HUGE. I've seen it. This place is no joke. Sometimes, if you're sailing out in the middle, you can look in every direction and not see a single spot of land. Most of the Zoras live on the islands, of course, but there are definitely some cities underneath the water. Amazing, right? Zoran culture is mind-blowing. These people can build incredible things. I know Anowaika is going to love it. Go, go, go, Ano! _

_ Wow, looks like you've found yourself a really pretty girl. But don't be stupid, okay? She's not just something you can play with. She's a real human being, not just a pretty face. You probably know that already, and you've probably had a conversation with her about it, but don't lead her on. If she's more attached than you, stop it. Don't assume that every girl you sleep with is going to be like me. Some people are still capable of actual love. Not cold-hearted like yours truly. _

_ This time, I'm sending you a pictograph. It's of the reigning champion. See how badass I look? You miss it, I know. The only solution is for you to hurry up and come back home. _

_ Shad sends his love. Along with this handy dandy map. He says there's an ally for you to meet at Pohoma Harbor—not too far from Ordon. Miss you. _

_ xoxo Damita_

_P.S: I'm serious, Link. Don't die on us. _


	53. What Shadows Can See

**okay change of plans this chapter is REALLY short so I'm just gonna post two today**

**which means**

**WHOOAOAOAOA next week is the last chapter!**

**get excited**

**(actually maybe not I don't have the second book finished or even close to finished yet? college okay?)**

**also to TheEagle's question about the letters, honestly, I just kind of left that to your imagination, which I probably shouldn't have. Shad mentions earlier before they leave that they can send letters via hawk or he'll send it directly using his many links through the four lands, but when Link and Damita are sending letters to each other I never specify which method they use. **

**I honestly don't know.**

**But supposedly, it's reliable enough that they're not scared of Zelda finding their plans. **

**Eh, blame it on Shad. **

**Anywho, chapters 52 and 53! **

**enjoyyyy**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Fifty-Two

What Shadows Can See

Sheik wanted to sneak out of the temple and go to the castle. Just to see Karis and tell him that everything was okay. He felt bad because he had meant to write to Karis, but he just couldn't. He couldn't find it within himself to do that, not when he was less than an hour's walk away from where he slept. Sheik had already been in the temple for three weeks. He was going to lose his mind, stuck in this place.

He had prepared a few more disguises, just to distract himself. He fashioned one after Taralisse, one after Tempest, and one after Impa. Impa's was the easiest. He didn't need contact lenses for that one. All he needed was white hair and a stern look and he could definitely pass as her.

He wondered how old she was. It was the middle of the night and he was sitting on his bed, crafting his disguises, while Tara and Tempest paced around the room. She was talking about something that went right over Sheik's head, so he had tuned out a while ago. But Tempest was watching her very intently, drinking in every word. Rauru and Impa, of course, were nowhere to be found. Sheik knew that if he'd really wanted to, he could easily slip past Tara and Tempest and make his way to the castle.

_Probably not the best idea though, huh?_

He pushed his project aside and lay flat on his stomach, hugging the nearest pillow against his cheek. Curtains of yellow hair fell across his eyes and he was suddenly tempted to cut it all off, but he knew that would be a decision he would really, really regret. He reached over to the nightstand and grabbed the lens of truth. He gazed around the room with it. The ghost woman he'd seen earlier was still at the door, watching him. The inner souls of Tempest and Tara were still exactly the same.

"Hey, Tara," Sheik called.

"What? I'm in the middle of talking."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. I wanna ask you something."

"What."

"How'd you become a sage?" He sat up and stared at her through the lens. That way she knew that she couldn't lie, because he could see right through her anyway. Tara crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, and her inner soul shadowed her movements.

"Why do you wanna know?"

Sheik shrugged with a smile. "I'm curious. Your other self looks really different."

"I don't actually remember," she said. Sheik lowered the lens and pouted at her.

"What do you mean you don't remember?"

"I do not remember," she said sarcastically. "I know I had a life before this one, but I don't remember what it was."

"I can tell you," he winked. He looked through the lens again. "Really pretty. Way prettier than now. Apparently you liked chocolate. And you wore a lot of jewelry, and you smoked from a pipe. You were very sad about something, 'cuz you're crying."

"I don't care."

"Just letting you know what your inner soul looks like," he teased. "Tempest, you wanna know, too?"

"Yeah, I do! My turn."

Sheik turned to face Tempest with his lens. "Your hair looked the same, but your skin wasn't as papery and weird-looking. You look really normal, actually. But kind of sad. Like you don't really know what you're doing. You liked to wear black boots."

"How interesting!"

"You don't remember either, then?" Sheik asked. Tempest shook his head.

"My turn," Tara hissed. She lunged forward and tried to grab the lens, but his reflexes were faster then hers. He moved it from her grasp.

"Nope."

She smirked, and then snapped her fingers. The next thing he knew, the lens wasn't in his hands anymore, but in hers. He hadn't even seen her reach out and take it. He jumped up onto the bed, staring at her.

"You can't just stop time whenever you want!" he cried.

"Oh, don't be a baby. I wanna see what your inner soul looks like."

He fell back onto the bed and resigned himself to the fact that he was about to be discovered. Tara gazed through the lens at him, and he avoided its glare. The eye was really creepy. It made him feel uncomfortable, squirmy, like something bigger was watching him.

Tara didn't say anything when she lowered the lens. She handed it to him, her face as expressionless as stone, and still said nothing. He was glad that she didn't say anything. He didn't need people pointing out his (quite literal) inner conflict.

"So, pretty boy. Know where you're going after this?" she asked.

"No idea. Impa never tells me anything. Why, do you know?"

She shrugged, but Tempest was less cruel.

"Emberos," he said. Sheik furrowed his brow.

"Emberos? That village in the Goron Mountains? Why the hell are we going there?"

Both of the sages were silent then, leaving Sheik in the darkness that he had somehow grown used to.

_Seems like people just have an aversion to answering my questions, huh?_

He put the lens back on the nightstand, and then Impa and Rauru walked in. Sheik knew when people had just finished intense conversations, and they definitely just had. He sat up straighter and watched her.

"Sheik," she said. "Rauru and I have spoken about the months to come and what we will do."

"Without my say, of course."

She ignored his comment.

"He and the other sages have agreed to aid us in our journey. You should be grateful, child."

"I...I am," he said.

"Be prepared to leave come morning. We are going to—"

"Emberos," he interrupted, "right?"

She smiled with raised eyebrows and nodded.

"Yes. We are going to Emberos."

"Why?"

"It will be the ideal place for your training. I have strong connections there, and Rauru has assured me of its safety. Will you be ready at dawn?"

"Sure thing."

"Sleep, child," she said. He had never heard her voice sound so soft before. Maybe the calm before the storm, he mused. "Rest before the upcoming journey. We will not vanish—we will travel on foot. And it shall be arduous."

"Okay."

As Impa turned to leave, the strangest thing happened.

Sheik blinked, and when he opened his eyes, he saw her inner soul there in front of him. He saw Tara's, and Tempest's, and Rauru's (an owl?) standing there instead of their owners.

_But...I'm not looking through the lens...?_

He blinked again and the inner souls were gone. Impa was glancing at his awestruck face over her shoulder.

"Your abilities are awakening," she said. "Shadow Guardian."


	54. Blue

Chapter Fifty-Three

Blue

_Dear Sheik,_

_ I hope this letter finds you well. I've been thinking about you a lot lately. I haven't heard from you, and I have to say I'm a bit worried. Who knows what you've been doing this past month? I understand you must be busy. Write to me whenever you can. I won't be going anywhere. I will be here at the castle, silently withering. My health is fine, unchanging so far. But I can see omens in my dreams and feel it in the air. I will get worse soon enough. Incredible, how the state of the mind affects the state of the body. Wouldn't you agree?_

_ I don't want to burden you or make you feel sad, but I feel as if I have nobody to talk to here. So I'm going to ask that you bear with me as I ramble to you. _

_ I'm terribly lonely here at Hyrule Castle. I don't mean to be dramatic, but it's certainly gotten worse since you left. I'm sure you understand. I don't really have anybody to turn to. Queen Zelda is out of the question; sometimes I think she hates me so much. Even when I try to comfort her, she brushes me aside. I shudder at the thought of becoming her husband because we will both be very, very miserable. Although, I doubt my life will be anything but miserable—objectively speaking, that is. But I am trying to remain positive. Dedicating my life to others seems like a good place to start. Being in the castle with the maids and the cooks and the people making my bed and my breakfast every morning, doting on my every desire, stifles me so. I look out the window and, though I can't see them from here, I know there are people suffering. I go down to Southern Castilia as often as I can. I try to spend most of my days there. I've started to go without Zelda's permission. Perhaps if I died out there, things would be easier for her. _

_ The children are so sweet. When you come back, I'll introduce you to them. It's amazing to me. They were born with so little, and sometimes have nothing to eat. Yet they can smile more radiantly than I've ever seen a person smile here in Northern Castilia. _

_ I met a young Gerudo girl yesterday. She told me her name was Leila, and that it meant nighttime in Gerudic. She was a very pretty young girl, with big golden eyes and black hair. She was running about with a Hylian boy. I thought of how strange that would look to the people in Northern Castilia. But in the south, something changes. The people are able to come together, Gorons, Zoras, Hylians, Gerudos, half-bloods, everybody. They help each other, Sheik, in a way that I could never imagine. As far as this rule pushes them down, they find a way to keep their heads above water. I want to help them. I promised Leila that I would visit her soon. _

_ The members of the Royal Council are very rude to me. I don't think they are very happy with the queen's decision to deem me her betrothed, which I suppose I understand. But when I try to attend the meetings (for I'll be a formal member of the council once Zelda and I are married), they shut me out. Turn away. _

_ Sometimes I'm afraid that they've discovered my secret. The same secret you discovered the night you left. I hope it doesn't change how you think about me. _

_ When I'm not in Southern Castilia, I tend to aimlessly roam the halls of the castle. I've discovered every corner, every passage, every secret tunnel there is. You wouldn't believe the amazing secrets this castle carries. I go to the library a lot, too. But the weather is so nice outside most of the time that I can't justify staying inside. I walk in the gardens a lot. In fact, Zelda (perhaps she wasn't paying attention) gave me permission to make additions to the garden as I see fit. So I've had the gardeners expand it, grow more colorful flowers, make it more accessible. It's certainly become my favorite part of the castle. I can't wait for you to come back and see it, and I can give you a tour and explain to you what all the flowers are. _

_ My favorite is the orchid. I'm sending one that I pressed with this letter. I made a cologne from the orchids that I wear every day. _

_ I miss you, Sheik. Walking the halls in the castle isn't the same without your silly jokes and your contagious laugh. Please be careful wherever you are. I don't know what I would do if you died. That's so selfish of me. I'm sorry. But if you ever find yourself with a bit of time, write to me. Or spare me a thought. _

_ Yours Truly,_

_ Karis_

Karis put his pen away, folded the letter, and stamped it with his seal. He left it on his desk with a note to the maid to send it as soon as possible, for when she came in to clean. As hot as it was, nearing the end of summer, he was wearing a sweater and had his blanket wrapped around his shoulders. He had woken up shivering that day, his bones crashing violently against his skin. Even though it was the middle of the day, he had even lighted a candle. He put every ounce of energy and effort into that letter, and poured every emotion he had been feeling for the past month into it. And now there were tears streaming down his cheeks that he tried so hard to stop. But each time he tried, the sensation of Sheik's lips on his forehead came back. And he was reminded of how lonely he was.

_I'll go to the garden._

It would be warm outside, in his haven. Karis called someone from outside to help him get dressed. He was feeling weak, unbelievably weak, today. From his sickness or his crippling loneliness, he wasn't entirely sure. The woman who came in was one who often helped him. Her name was Ginetta. She was very plump and had rosy cheeks and let Karis talk to her and would often respond. She was one of the few people who bothered to lend him an ear. But that day, he didn't have anything to say. Except for, That's a bit too tight, and, Thank you.

She helped him out into the garden, while he leaned on her ever so slightly. Other members of the castle, the workers and the members of Zelda's court, watched him walk by. He had grown accustomed to their looks of condescension. This feeling of despair, of having absolutely nobody, was common for him.

_That doesn't make it any easier to bear. _

Karis blinked away the tears that threatened to give them all the satisfaction they didn't deserve. Once he was out in the garden, he asked Ginetta to leave. She asked him if he would be okay alone, and though he wasn't actually sure, he told her he would be. She curtsied and went back inside. And Karis was finally alone by choice. There was a difference, he'd realized, between being lonely and being alone. When he chose it, when he made the active decision of being by himself, there was a sense of freedom. Contentment, even. But when he was surrounded by people who knew him and chose to ignore him, it was the most terrible feeling in the world. In the garden, he was alone.

He began to walk along the stone path, pausing every few minutes to catch his breath. The sun was awfully bright. It made his eyes and skin hurt. But it also made him feel warm, and that was worth it all. He liked the feeling of the soft, dry wind in his hair. That day it had decided it truly would not be tamed, so he had given up. It flew in all directions, bluer than the sky. For a moment he wished that he had the hairclip his mother had given him, but he knew it was in good hands.

He let his shaking fingers run along the bark of the trees, the thistles of the bushes, the petals of the flowers. When he paused to catch his breath, he would bend as low as he could and breathe in the scent. It cleared his so often blocked airways and made him feel lively. But he definitely wanted more orchids. He would tell the gardeners. Orchids everywhere. The aroma of them made him so happy.

He walked like that for ages. Aimlessly, meandering through the garden, glancing up at the sky and gathering his surroundings. He tried to forget everything else—tried to forget that it would have felt so nice to have Sheik by his side. And, for a while, Karis succeeded. He forgot that in a few months, he would the King of Hyrule. He forgot that half of Castilia wanted him dead (including his own fiancée). He forgot that, within the next seven years, his illness would most likely take his life. He would probably never see his grandchildren. He would never even see his own children grow up.

_I'll never truly be happy. _

_ But...that's not true, is it?_

_ I can be happy making others happy._

Karis would go to Southern Castilia tomorrow and see Leila. The little Gerudo girl who barely had enough to eat, whose mother had to slave away to put bread on the table through the racism and the prejudice and Zelda's tyranny.

He was confident that he had seen every single inch of this garden. So when he saw a thicket that he'd never noticed before, Karis was sure that his eyes were playing tricks on him. As they so often did. It was right up against the wall of the castle, so tight that if one were to look out the window, it would be impossible to see. Karis stopped in his tracks and stared at it, shocked that he'd never noticed it before.

_Has it always been there? I'm sure I've walked this path before._

While the rest of the garden was pristine and trimmed and as perfect as perfect could be, this thicket looked like its own world. As if it had been growing there for centuries, and once it had gotten out of hand, the gardeners had decided to ignore it. Or maybe they had been like Karis, failing to notice it regardless of how many times they walked these stone paths.

There was sweat on his brow as he approached this thicket. He was already trying to decide what he would do with it. More orchids, perhaps? Well, it would probably be best to vary things. A fountain would look beautiful in this location, he mused. That's what he would do. A fountain.

He grabbed the weeds and the cattails, and they were thick and resilient. They were growing in what looked like a perfect circle. And when Karis looked closer, he saw that the center of the circle was hollowed out. But he could only see it if he stood on his tiptoes. It was like a secret hideaway, the weeds there crushed as if somebody had stepped on them. Sat there. The opening was just large enough for two people, at most, to sit. Karis ignored his better judgment and cautiously stepped through the thicket, into the circle in the center. He sat down.

It was oddly peaceful. He felt that if he just stayed there, was quiet and still, nobody would ever find him. People would say, Yes, the queen's fiancé went out into the garden one day, and then he disappeared, nobody knows where he went, but he never came back. He smiled and chuckled at the thought.

_So ridiculous._

Karis lay down on his back to stare at the sky. He could feel the weeds falling into his hair and tickling his papery skin. There were so few moments when one could feel totally and utterly natural, and this was one of those moments.

Until he heard a little voice in his ear.

"Who are you?"

Karis jolted upright, looking around frantically. He knew he had heard something. Yet he could see nothing. He was just as alone as before.

"Who said that?" he whispered. He wasn't sure why he was whispering.

"I did."

"Who? Where are you?"

"Down here."

Karis looked down. And then he saw it. A little blue light shimmering in the spot where his head had been. His eyes grew wide and he unconsciously held his breath. The voice, high and piercing yet smooth and pleasant, was coming directly from that blue light.

"Come closer, come closer," the voice beckoned. Karis could not resist. He got on his knees and bent down toward the light, closer and closer, so close that he thought he was going to go blind. But then the light dimmed, and he saw what had been concealed there.

"A...you're a...it can't be...!"

It was a fairy. A beautiful little fairy, with tiny, slender limbs and blue, shimmering skin. She was wearing a tattered white dress and wasn't wearing any shoes, which didn't matter, Karis supposed, because of her wings. They were large and magnificent, resembling a butterfly's, except that they were the most translucent shade of blue he'd ever seen. Her hair was blue, too, but a silvery, white kind of blue—the kind of blue that reminded him of snow. It sparkled like snow, as well, and was so long it reached her ankles. Her face looked like a young girl's, smiling and bright-eyed but so, so tiny. So innocent.

"You're a fairy," he breathed. He was smiling from ear to ear now. He had read about fairies, been told stories about fairies when he was a child, but he (and everyone in Hyrule) had been told that fairies were unbelievably rare unless one were to risk the dangerous trek to a fairy fountain. They had long ago stopped leaving their havens, for fear that their incomparable healing abilities would be taken advantage of, as they so often had. The people of Hyrule had killed off so many of them, they were hardly seen anymore.

Especially the blue ones.

"Of course I am," she replied. Karis watched her, laughing to himself, as her wings fluttered and she hovered up into the air. She floated right in front of his eyes, tilting her head as her hair billowed in the gentle breeze. Then, so sweetly, she touched his nose with her little fingers. "What's your name?"

"Karis."

"Karis. A nice name," she said. Then she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, so deep that he could see her entire body tremble. As little as it was. She couldn't have been bigger than a very large butterfly. It was no wonder he hadn't seen her before. "You smell so nice, Karis. Just like flowers."

"Thank you," he replied.

_Hallucinating. My illness has taken a turn for the worse. _

"What's your name?" he asked. Hallucination or not, this fairy was mesmerizing. She looked lovely and mystical and happy and sad all at once.

"Navi," she said. "My name is Navi."

"Does it mean anything?"

"Oh, I don't know," she said. She scratched her head, like she was thinking. "I don't think it does. I think someone just decided one day that it would be a nice name for a fairy."

"Well that's good, because it certainly is."

She smiled at him, and he smiled back. But he wanted to laugh, like a little child. He blinked a few times, to make sure she wouldn't disappear. And she was still there each time.

"You look very surprised, Karis," Navi said.

"People always told me that blue fairies didn't exist anymore," Karis replied, "but here you are."

"Here I am! Although, to be honest, I have been here for a long time. I don't know if there's anyone else like me." She said it so matter-of-factly that Karis couldn't tell if she was sad. But there was an expression on her face, a kind of wide-eyed stare, that betrayed sorrow. Deep, soulful sorrow. The kind of sorrow that came from years, years, centuries of agony.

"You're very beautiful," he murmured. Navi smiled and he thought perhaps he saw her blush.

"Thank you."

"But...can I ask you something, Navi?"

"Okay."

"What are you doing here?" He was speaking very quietly without even noticing. He was just paranoid that someone might walk by, and then his secret would disappear. This was the most amazing thing he had experienced since being alone in the castle—perhaps since his birth—and he didn't want it spoiled. He didn't want anybody else knowing about this precious blue fairy in this hidden thicket.

"I've always lived here. This is my home," she explained.

"This thicket?"

"No, no. The whole garden."

"The entire garden? It's your home?"

"That's right."

"For how long?"

"I don't really know. What I do know is that I've seen a lot of different people walk on these paths. Probably a long time."

"Have you seen me before?"

"Yes, of course. You're always out here. And you always look a bit lonely and sad," she said. She pouted, and Karis blushed. A bead of sweat rolled down his cheek, but the fairy reached forward and wiped it away. Her skin felt so strange, so warm and bright, somehow. "I've been too scared to talk to you until now. But you were right here and I thought, I might as well."

"Navi," he said. It really was a nice name. "A true fairy, right here in front of my eyes. How extraordinary."

"You're making me blush!"

"But if you've lived here all this time, surely you must be lonely, too," he mused. He sat up straighter and, as if it was the most natural thing in the world, cupped his palms. Navi let her wings stop fluttering and stood on his hands. Then she took a seat, crossed her legs, right there. He brought her closer to his face, to look at her more closely. Exquisite.

"Yeah, I guess I am. But a lot of the time it's nice being able to watch people, listen to their conversations, see history. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes," he nodded, "but it still seems lonely. Being in this garden by yourself."

"_You're_ in this garden by yourself all the time," she said. Karis smiled and nodded.

"Yes. But I am a rather lonely person to begin with."

"Hey, listen!" she cried, hopping up. Her face was beaming. "I have a _great_ idea."

"Yes?"

"You live in this castle, right?"

"I do."

"Why don't you bring me inside to live with you? If we're both lonely, we can help each other. Right?"

Karis pondered the idea for a few moments, and couldn't help imagining Sheik's reaction.

_"A fairy?! Seriously, Kar? I swear, you find yourself in the weirdest situations!" _

But Navi was lovely. A gentle, pleasant, excited and mesmerizing fairy who was just as much in need of a friend as Karis was. He nodded. She gave a grand flap of her wings and jumped up into the air, blue sparkles of light erupting around her.

"Karis, we're going to be great friends," she said. And for a moment, Karis forgot about the sad look on her face. And for a moment, Karis about his own despair.

* * *

**review pleaaaassseeeeee**


	55. Fire Starter

**The last chapter of this book!**

**whaaaaaaaaaaa?! **

**not really sure when i'll start posting the second book...tbh i don't know if i'm gonna follow my rule of finishing before publishing because it's not even close to being done but i'm not a patient person. **

**anywho**

**will have a few notes at the end! but for now, enjoy!**

**xoxo**

* * *

Chapter Fifty-Four

Fire Starter

Link had lost count of how many days they'd been in Ordon. But today was their last day. Shad had sent them a map, they were all packed; but they weren't going to leave until nighttime. Though nobody had bothered saying it, they were all very comfortable in Ordon. They had grown rather attached to the people there, were growing familiar with its streets and its trees and its streams, and their faces were recognizable among the townspeople now. Link had taken it upon himself, once he'd realized they were going to be in Ordon for a few more weeks, to help out in the farms. He was well trained anyway, having worked as a ranch-hand outside Castilia for the full seven years that he recalled living there. (Who knows what he did before that?)

"Oh, Fado? What a great guy. Amazing with the horses!"

"Wow, you know Fado, Ravio? Gosh, I miss that guy."

"Tell him I said hi when you head back to Castilia, yeah?"

He helped them round up the oxen and the cows at the end of the day, he went with Malon to feed the cuccos and milk the cows—she was very good at it and he was rather bad. But she always hummed while she worked, so Link didn't mind it so much. When there was a big load of crops, he would carry the baskets on Epona back to the town from the fields, and he helped carry water from the stream into the basins and the stables. Every day it became routine. He and Malon would go through the motions, then they would go out into the fields, and she would sing while he and the others worked the fields.

Doing all of this, having this sort of routine, listening to Malon hum, almost helped Link forget why he was here. But he never really did. And at night, he would remember, when a tight and secretive group of women and men met up to discuss strategies.

"This place is crawling with Zelda's influence," Link kept saying to them. "We can't do anything big yet. Give it time. Plant the seeds."

They were very eager and a bit impatient.

_But so far so good._

Anowaika and Vukan liked to play with the local children during the days. Anowaika would tell jokes and let them play with her pictograph box, while Vukan gave them piggyback rides. Link could have sworn he saw him smile not once, but maybe even twice. It seemed like Ordon was bringing out the best in all of them. Raazi, for the most part, spent her time strolling through the streets. Sometimes with a book in her hands, sometimes not. She was very unusual to the sheltered people of Ordon, so she found herself answering a great many questions.

"Why is your skin so dark?"

"Do you eat sand where you're from?"

"Why do you speak Hylian with a such a weird accent?"

"Wow, Gerudos are pretty!"

She answered every question with her signature smile, commandeering the soul of every person she met. A few young men of the village took it upon themselves to pursue her, but didn't find much success.

Today was the end—once the sun set, they were going to head out to Pohoma Harbor. Anowaika could hardly contain her excitement. Malon, on the other hand, seemed apprehensive.

"You have to come back and visit," she said. She and Link were walking back from the stream; he was on top of Epona, carrying the buckets of water, while Malon held Epona's reins and walked her through the streets. "Do you promise?"

"I can't really promise anything, you know."

"Oh, don't be like that! Just promise. It'll make me feel better."

"All right, all right, I promise."

"Where are you going again?"

"The Zora Isles. Ever been?"

"Nope. I've never left Ordon. Remember?"

"Oh, right. I've never been either."

"You'll have to tell me all about it when you come back and visit."

He looked down at her, and she was staring up at him with her pursed lips and mischievous eyes. He smiled. The sun made her look very happy. Maybe she was. It was hard to tell with Malon. One moment she was bright and jumping and excited and charming—the next she was on her knees, tears streaming down her face. Link preferred it when she was happy. Like right now.

"Can I tell you something, Li—I mean, Ravio?"

"Mm?"

"I just want you to know...you've made a real difference in this town."

Her comment took him off-guard. He glanced down at her, but she was staring straight ahead, marching Epona forward. A fire sparkled in his heart, and he replayed her words over and over again in his head. Those were the words he wanted to hear.

_A difference._

They reached the stables. Link handed her the buckets and dismounted, and they led Epona inside. Went through the routine of filling the troughs, throwing feed for the cuccos, while she hummed and he basked in the simplicity of it all.

They walked outside. Link with his hands in his pockets, Malon telling some silly joke, the sun shining maybe a bit too brightly. They had hardly taken two steps when an Iron Warrior stepped in front of them. Not an uncommon occurrence, Link had realized in his time at Ordon. Talon had not been exaggerating. They were everywhere, did whatever they wanted. Link was relieved he hadn't had a real run-in with them.

"Hey there, Malon," the warrior said. He lifted the face of his helmet. He couldn't have been much older than Link—maybe even younger. How pristine and taken-care of he looked...it made Link sick. "How we doing today?"

"Fine."

Link noticed that she wouldn't meet the warrior's gaze. He chewed on his strand of hay and narrowed his eyes and watched. She clasped her hands together and clenched them really tightly, and Link could see her jaw tensing up. It was the same way she acted whenever an Iron Warrior was around. Not like herself at all.

"You're looking mighty fine," he winked. Malon didn't respond. Link took his hands out of his pockets and crossed them in front of his chest. "Hey, I have an idea. Why don't you come over to my place tonight?"

"I'm busy, but thank you."

"Aw, come on, I bet you could spare one night!" he laughed. Then he looked at Link, as if noticing him for the first time. "No, don't tell me you're gonna be hanging around this bozo."

Link laughed, too. But the Iron Warrior didn't like that, apparently.

"What are you laughing at?"

"Nothing, he's not laughing at anything," Malon interjected. "Look, we have somewhere to be, so—"

"You," Link said. "I'm laughing at you."

_If the others were here, I'd be getting it for sure._

"What'd you just say to me?"

"I can spell it out if you'd like, but that might take a while."

"Ravio! Cut it out!" Malon said.

"So that's your name, is it?" the Iron Warrior sneered. "Listen here, Ravio. If you don't want your guts spilled out on these streets, you better watch that long tongue of yours."

The people in the streets were starting to notice, because the Iron Warrior was raising his voice. They were gathering around, grouping together with excited whispers.

"He won't say anything else, I promise. We're really sorry." Malon grabbed Link's hand and began walking away, and he figured that was the best idea.

_I shouldn't be getting involved with this. Not yet, at least. _

"It's not fair that they can just terrorize you whenever they feel like it," he mumbled.

"You're right, it's not, but can you just keep your mouth shut?"

"Malon, where are you going? We weren't finished talking," the Iron Warrior called. Malon just kept walking, eyes forward.

"I have to be somewhere," she said.

"Hey. Stop right there. That's an order."

She stopped. The Iron Warrior's voice had grown low and husky, and Link heard the clamor of his armor as he walked toward them. He stepped in front of them, his eyes shadowy and his mouth in a stern, straight line.

"You have to be where I _tell_ you to be," he spat in her face. "You can't just run around doing whatever you want."

"I-I'm sorry, I didn't—"

"You may think this is your town, but you're wrong," he snickered. "This is _our_ town. You all belong to us."

Then he reached forward and grabbed Malon's arm.

And Link's patience ran out.

"Let go," he said. Malon was struggling to get out of his grasp. The warrior froze, then turned to him.

"I thought I told you to keep your mouth shut."

"And I thought I told you to let go." Link raised his eyebrows and nodded to her arm. "Let go of her."

Through his peripheral vision, he saw that Ano, Vukan, and Raazi had appeared. And the crowd had grown bigger. The three of them moved forward, rushing toward him.

"You trying to tell me what to do?"

"Not trying. I am telling you what to do. Let go."

Malon gasped a little bit, and he realized that the warrior had tightened his grip. Things started moving in slow motion then. Link lifted his leg and kicked the Iron Warrior's arm, forcing his fingers to unlock and his arm to swing away. The warrior opened his mouth, gasped in pain—probably more in shock. Then he brought his arm back, clenched his fist, and sent it flying straight toward Link's face.

_Pain._

He felt the metal make contact with his nose, could hear the blood spew, felt the earth spin around him as he fell back from the blow. He saw so many different colors that he could not differentiate them and they made his head hurt, so he closed his eyes and let himself fall. He could taste the dirt fly up around him, his head banged against the ground, everything was spinning.

"_Link!" _

He wasn't sure who had screamed his name. He wasn't really sure of anything. Until he felt a pair of arms lifting him, a hand on his forehead, a voice saying his name. He managed to open his eyes. Anowaika was there above him, eyes wide and blue. He heard her saying his name but, somehow, her voice didn't match the way her lips moved. Just like the woman he'd met at Ikana Road.

"Link, are you all right?"

He couldn't answer. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath, and realized that he was feeling a numbing pain in his nose.

"Your nose is broken. I have to snap it back into place. It's going to hurt. Hold Raazi's hand if you need to." He noticed then that Raazi and Malon were both on his other side, Raazi's hands running through his hair. He grabbed her hand not because he thought it would help, but because Anowaika had said so. He was hardly conscious. "Here it comes..."

"AH!"

The pain was so great then that he bolted upright, squeezed Raazi's hand with all his might. The blood was still pouring down his face, so Raazi ripped a piece of her skirt and held it to his nostrils. Everything was still spinning.

"That'll teach you."

The four of them, kneeling on the ground, glanced up. The Iron Warrior cast his shadow across them, hands on his hips, blood on his armored fist.

"Do not say a word, little wolf," Raazi hissed in his ear. "Otherwise I shall silence you myself. Do you understand me?"

He was silent. But he would not turn his gaze away from the warrior's eyes. As Anowaika and Raazi helped him up, his arms around their shoulders, and Malon began leading them away, he continued to stare. He noticed Vukan standing behind them.

But Link couldn't just leave like that.

He spat at the Iron Warrior's feet. His saliva was red.

The Iron Warrior clenched his fists and made an advance, stomping toward them, growling like an animal. Link knew he was going to get it again, and there wasn't really anything he could do about it.

_Not when there are all these people here...innocent people..._

But the Iron Warrior never got to him.

Vukan stepped directly in front of him, grabbed him by his armored shoulders (for Vukan was at least twice as big as any Iron Warrior), and jammed his head against his own.

The warrior fell—knocked unconscious or dead, Link wasn't sure.

Everybody was completely silent. The citizens of the town, Link, Malon, Anowaika, Raazi...nobody said a single word. Nobody had ever dared fight back against an Iron Warrior, let alone send one to the ground. Link had regained his ability to stand, and so walked over to where Vukan stood. He put his hand on his colossal rock arm. A silent show of gratitude they both understood.

_You probably just saved my life, big guy._

Link could've predicted what followed. An entire flock of Iron Warriors, having heard the commotions themselves, pushed through the circle of people to the center, where their fallen comrade lay at the feet of this Goron. They pulled out their swords, their spears, nocked their arrows and aimed them all at Vukan and Link.

"Stop it!" Malon stepped forward, reaching out her arms to block them out. Link's heart fell down to his feet as he noticed the people around them straightening up...muscles tense...faces determined.

"Get out of the way," a female Iron Warrior, the one leading the group, said. "They've committed a crime, and need to be held responsible."

"_No!_ We won't be your slaves anymore!" Malon screamed. Link realized what was happening. He saw the people grabbing anything they could—sticks, shovels, rakes, whips for the carriages, buckets.

For self-defense from what was to come.

"Malon, no, you can't—!" Link tried to step forward, tried to reach out for her, but Vukan kept him back.

"What did you just say?" the warrior cried. Her voice muffled through her metal helmet.

"You've persecuted us long enough," Malon said. "You raid our homes, steal our food, hurt all of us and our loved ones. We won't stand for it anymore."

"I'll say it one more time. Get out of the way."

The other Iron Warriors were beginning to notice as well. The angry expressions on the Ordonians' faces, their makeshift weapons. The way they stood tall and proud.

"No. I won't. _We _won't. Not anymore."

The Iron Warriors advanced, raising their weapons against the civilians.

_Civilians._

"Link," Malon said as she turned over her shoulder. "You have to leave now."

The Ordonians met them.

"NO!"

Chaos ensued. The citizens of Ordon took up arms to protect themselves, to fight back against the Iron Warriors, with rakes and shovels against swords and spears manufactured in Castilia. Blood covered the streets. Demands for freedom, screams for an end to the tyranny, calls for Zelda's reign to fall...things that Link had only seen in his dreams (his nightmares?). Link lost sight of Malon and the others within moments, as the storm of people advanced. He saw so many faces, looking at him in admiration, nodding to him, raising their weapons in honor of him. And he saw those faces disappear, saw those weapons fall to the bloody earth. His ears pounded with the sounds.

_I did this...?_

He needed his sword, the boomerang, his arrows—anything. He ran back to the cottage, pushing through the throng of people, trying to ignore the screams as people fell. Houses were beginning to catch fire. Animals were screaming now, too. He couldn't tell beast from human.

_They won't be able to put a dent in those Iron Warriors..._

_ I did this..._

_ Revolution...?_

"Revolution."

As he ran, fingers and heart and soul itching for a weapon, he felt someone grab onto his arm and pull him aside. He was pulled to the back of the stables, where there was nobody else to be seen. It was Raazi. She crouched low, bring him down with her. Her eyes were flashing, but with what emotion, he had no idea.

"Raazi, I have to get my sword," he breathed.

"No."

"I can't let them fight alone."

"You must not."

"_I can't let them die like this."_

"Listen to me, little wolf. Listen to me and listen well." She put her hands on his cheeks and held him tight, so tightly that he couldn't even move his neck. Her bracelets jingled. He had never heard her voice like that, never seen that expression on her face. "You do not understand. But I...I have seen this. Over and over, I have seen this."

"Raazi, I can't sit here and do nothing."

"There is no hope anymore, little wolf," she murmured. He shook his head, the breath falling from his lungs. "Ordon is forsaken. You cannot do anything for these people."

The screams of the fighters echoed around them.

"This is my fault, Raazi. And you want me to just leave?"

Raazi wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He sat still, eyes wide and blood still streaming down his face. She whispered in his ear, "You have started a revolution. Ordon is sacrificing itself for that revolution. Be proud."

"I can't...I can't leave..."

"You _are_ the revolution, little wolf. How can you lead a revolution if you are dead?" She pulled away. "If you stay, you will die. We will all die. Terrible deaths. We must go to Pohoma Harbor. Now. I have already sent Anowaika and Vukan ahead with the other horse."

Each time he closed his eyes, he saw Malon standing in front of him. Defying the Iron Warriors. He heard her voice, felt her hair.

_I can't leave..._

"Hurry now. To the cottage. I shall get Epona."

Link moved in a haze. Ran to the cottage. Got his things. Avoided the shots fired and the swings of the Iron Warriors and tried not to look at the blood. He ran into the stable. It was on fire. Raazi was there with Epona. He helped her up. Then he mounted. She wrapped her arms around his waist and they ran. Dashed out of the stable, galloped away.

As they were exiting the gates of the town, Link glanced back. He couldn't see Malon. He called out her name. But he knew that, wherever she was, she couldn't hear him. Raazi squeezed him more tightly.

Epona raced out of Ordon, away from the fray. From the blood being shed, the Iron Warriors and their attack on innocent civilians, the houses and stables and farms on fire. All those people he had grown to know, those people and their passions and their lives...floating up in puffs of smoke from the flames licking the roofs of their homes. As they ran, Link saw something from the corner of his eye. As if like magic, a wolf had appeared. Bounding forward alongside Epona, running, running, running.

_Running away._

Link, Raazi, Epona, and Twilight ran until they caught up with Vukan, Anowaika, and Flare. Then they all ran together. Down the path toward Pohoma Harbor, leaving a forsaken town with its forsaken people and its forsaken forest behind them.

_The revolution has begun._

* * *

**and there you have it, the end of book 1!**

**would love to hear comments and opinions, especially now that the book is over. **

**what kinds of things do you wanna see in the coming installments? favorite characters? favorite scenes? **

**hopefully I'll see you soon!**

**to the Zora Isles!**

**(will probably post the prologue to the next book next week)**

**xoxo**

**love**

**forever and always**


End file.
